


Opals and Rubies

by Illuminahsti



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Fingerfucking, Lies, NOT a mag apologist fic, Oral Sex, Other, Porn With Plot, Riding, Semi-Public Sex, Sleepy Sex, Strap-Ons, Thief Peter Nureyev, Trans Peter Nureyev, more porn than plot but that may change, tags will be updated as these horny idiots get up to more nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24765559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illuminahsti/pseuds/Illuminahsti
Summary: Peter Nureyev was sent to seduce Juno Steel and gain access to the Carte Blanche. He wasn't expecting to get seduced himself.An AU where Peter never left Mag, but Juno still joined the Carte Blanche
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 96
Kudos: 289





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into writing trans Peter and I hope I don't write anything that bothers or unsettles anyone. I kept my language as neutral as possible.

When Peter wakes up, he is warm and so comfortable that for a minute he isn’t sure where he is. Someone’s arm is wrapped around him, their thigh between his legs, their cheek pressed to his shoulder blade. He is being held, and he feels entirely safe.

Then, he tries to move, and it becomes clear his arm has fallen asleep, and he needs to pee, and it is Saturday morning and he is in a hotel room only paid for until noon.

He shifts, freeing his arm, and Juno Steel shifts with him, his grip tightening.

Juno Steel. A lady he barely knows, except that he knows everything about him, has a file he has read dozens of times, learning how best to talk to him.

It had, all things considered, gone better than expected.

He hadn’t necessarily needed to bring him back to his hotel at all, if he was being honest. He could have gotten everything he needed at the bar, where he had engineered a meeting, but this—well, this was too good a chance to pass up. Juno Steel is a legend amongst thieves, and to be the one to seduce him fills Peter with a satisfaction he usually only gets from a good heist. 

_Juno looks up at him from between his thighs, single eye bright, his smile made crooked by a scar down his chin. Peter can barely look at him; he is too beautiful. He drops his head back to the pillow, gasping for breath. His legs shake with the aftershocks of orgasm._

_Juno kisses the inside of his thigh, one warm hand holding his hip down against the mattress._

_“You want me inside you?” He murmurs._

Peter’s comms chimes with an incoming message, and he makes sure Juno’s face is still pressed to his shoulder, eyes still shut, before he reaches for it and reads the message.

“Will 👁️ see u 4 brunch?” Mag asks. It is a simple enough message, but it holds an underlying message. Did Peter do his job properly? Is he safe?

“Maybe,” he replies, then, “hungover.” He hopes that Mag understands that he is busy, working his half of their plan, and does not think he is lazy, but he is never sure when Mag will lose patience with him.

Well, let him. Peter knows what he has accomplished.

He knows what he has to do next, too. Slip out of bed and look through Juno’s pockets for the keys to his spaceship before he wakes, then airily usher him out of the room. He can promise to call, if that’s what Juno wants. He’ll write his number on hotel stationery, sign it with a lipstick kiss. When he is gone, Opal Cloisonne will disappear into space dust, leaving Juno with only (he hopes) fond memories. Juno knows who Opal is—silly and a little vain and good hearted, an ambitious jewelry salesman from the outer rim. No need to hide an accent for this persona; not when it added to the veneer of naivety. He knows Opal has a sales meeting today, because Opal chattered nervously about it over drinks the night before.

He can’t bring himself to move. He is warm, and wrung out, and his legs and hips are so sore. 

_Peter has come twice before Juno even undresses. He lays on his back and watches Juno strip his shirt off, revealing a constellation of scars across his chest. Juno has to slide off the bed to take his pants off, and even though Peter feels the rush of cold air between them, he doesn’t move. He wants to touch Juno, arousal is still trickling between his legs, but he is tired and feels like a king watching this glorious man undress before him._

_“Good lord,” he says._

_Juno raises an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”_

_“No,” he answers, and tries not to get too poetic. “No you’re so exquisitely hot.”_

_Juno huffs a laugh. “You’re one to talk.”_

_His pants and underwear come off in one motion, his cock revealed. It bobs against his stomach, thick and dark, and Peter thinks, a little hysterically, that it isn’t fair that Juno Steel is absolutely hung on top of everything else._

Juno nestles closer, pressing his morning wood to Peter’s ass, and he slides a hand down Peter’s stomach to press his palm at the flat place between his hips, right before his hair thickens. Peter’s traitorous libido responds, hot between his legs, and his stomach hollows. He has things to do, investors to meet, but Juno is right here.

Juno thrusts, slow and warm, and Peter shifts to give him better access. He is not even sure Juno is awake, but his movements become more sure. Peter puts his hand over Juno’s and twines their fingers together.

Juno mouths at his neck and keeps moving, his cock between Peter’s thighs now, and Peter presses his legs together, the soreness in his muscles making itself known with a satisfying ache, and he lets out a breathy, desperate whimper. The head of Juno’s cock drags along his dick, shooting electricity into the pit of his stomach. He is wet already, and he snaps his hips to repeat Juno’s motion.

The lady gasps a soft huff against Peter’s back, and stills. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I shouldn’t have—was half asleep—“

“Don’t stop,” Peter interrupts.

He feels rather than hears Juno’s laugh, vibrating through his ribs, and then Juno’s hand drags up, over Peter’s stomach, and rubs a thumb over his nipple. His movements are more sure now, thrusting harder. It’s not enough. Peter wants to roll onto his stomach and let Juno pound him into the mattress until he can’t breath. He wants to find his largest strap on and return the favor, listen to Juno beg for his cock. He wants to tie Juno to the headboard and tease whimpers from him. He wants to ride Juno’s face until he cries. He wants, and wants—

_Juno is spread out below him, head thrown back. His arms are extended over his head, and he grips the headboard so his biceps stand out sharply, dark skin against white down pillows. Peter presses his hands down against Juno’s chest to feel his muscles shift as he breathes roughly._

_Peter presses up, thighs straining, and every shift of his hips lights him up inside and he would not stop if he was offered the Iris of Jupiter._

_“Oh,” Juno cries out. “Oh P—“_

Juno comes with a hitching gasp that is already familiar to Peter, and his hands grasp at Peter’s chest. Peter moves his hips weakly, seeking friction, even while he chastises himself for his greed. He should have had his fill of Juno Steel by now, should be rolling out of bed, getting dressed, laughing off their tryst. He has a business meeting today, and he still hasn’t gotten Juno’s keys off of him.

“Juno,” he whispers, “Touch me.”

Juno slides his hand between Peter’s legs, stroking his dick, and then goes further, pressing two thick fingers inside of Peter. He begins to thrust, slowly, torturously, movements still languid with sleep. Peter’s groan startles even him, and he moves with Juno’s hand, begging with his body for more.

“You want—?” Juno mumbles, and Peter answers “yes,” before he has even finished speaking.

Juno pushes on Peter’s shoulder so he is chest down on the mattress, sheets tangled around him, and then Juno’s fingers are back inside of Peter, the new angle letting him go deeper. Peter spreads his legs and presses his face to the pillow of his arms as Juno continues. He his not used to this, to being touched just for his own pleasure when his partner is finished. He knows what he should do, and praise Juno, tell him he’s good, but he can’t get the words out. He just wants Juno to keep touching him.

Juno kisses down his back, fingers still working. He bends them, two fingertips against Peter’s G spot, strokes harder, and Peter sobs as he comes. He cannot stop the sounds coming out of him, incoherent and breathy, and he lifts his hips without thinking, follows Juno’s fingers as he pulls out.

“Good?” Juno asks, voice rough and low and intimate. He is not asking for praise, he is genuine and worried, and Peter swallows down another choked breath to answer an affirmative.

“Yes,” he gasps. “Yes, fuck, god—“

He should be better than this. He should have pretty words and praise that keep Juno coming back for more, but he reduced to this, desperate and needy.

He is already wondering how long before they can go again, but his eyelids are heavy. They didn’t get much sleep the night before, and however much he wants, his body is tired.

He rolls onto his side, into the wet patch on the bed, but ignores it. Instead, he trails his fingers up Juno’s arms to his broad shoulders and pulls him down for a kiss.

It is slow and sleepy, and then Juno stops.

“Hey Peter?” 

_Peter lowers himself onto Juno’s cock, inch by inch, filling himself nearly past bearing. Juno steadies him with warm hands, one on his knee and one on his forearm, and he gasps out._

_“Fuck, Opal, I’m already close—“_

_Peter looks down at him, meets his burning gaze._

_“Call me Peter.”_

_The words spill out of him without premeditation and he regrets them instantly, but no flash of recognition crosses Juno’s face. His brows furrow, and he says, “Okay, Peter.”_

_The sound of his name on new lips sends a thrill of danger through him. He shouldn’t have done this, but now adrenaline is coursing through him, bringing him to intense awareness. Instead of worrying, he captures Juno’s lips in a kiss._

Panic surges through him. He makes a small questioning noise, all he can manage without screaming.

Juno just trails loose fingers down Peter’s side. “You think we could use that big fancy hotel bathroom?”

“Go ahead,” he replies. His voice comes out nearly normal.

Juno climbs over him, off the bed, and Peter watches his gather his underwear and walk towards the bathroom. With the morning light filtering in the window, Peter can look at his scars, laser burns and long jagged rows of stitches grown over with wiry hair. He could have gotten both lasered off, but chose not to. An aesthetic choice, surely the fabled Juno Steel could afford a little cosmetic surgery.

It has certainly worked on Peter, who wants to know every story behind them, wants to memorize them. They already speak to a man willing to put himself in harms way to stand for his ideals, a man not preoccupied with vanity.

In other words, a man too good for Peter’s petty greed.

Juno stops at the doorway and raises an eyebrow at Peter. “Coming?” He asks.

“I’ll be right there.”

He waits while Juno rustles around the bathroom, until the shower turns on, and then he slides out of bed. He bites back a whimper and pulls on pants and underwear, then picks up Juno’s slacks.

His keys are in the pocket, including the small fob for a model s850 transport ship, right next to a bedazzled rabbit charm. If he takes the whole key ring, Juno can assume they fell out at the bar, in the elevator, on the way home. He’ll never have reason to suspect Peter.

But what if he does? He knows Peter’s name, now, or half of it, enough that Buddy Aurinko might guess who he is. She and Mag knew each other, when Peter was very young, and she could connect the dots. Peter isn’t a common name, far too old fashioned, and if Juno suspects even a little bit—

He has compromised their project utterly. He should run now, back to Mag, tell Mag what has gone wrong.

How will he explain that he gave his name to Juno Steel in an orgasm induced haze? They have been planning this heist for weeks, researching flight paths and transport models and Juno Steel.

He can’t face Mag’s disappointment. Not when—

Maybe he can find his way onto the ship another way, a way that doesn’t involve betraying Juno, or risking Juno’s punishment at Buddy’s hand.

_Months_ of planning, he reminds himself. They need this job, desperately. Peter can’t falter.

He fumbles the fob off the ring. The rabbit comes with it. It would be too suspicious to take one and not the other, too clear that human hands stole the key.

He tucks it inside the lining of his suitcase and goes to join Juno in the shower.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno lingers. Peter worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no smut in this chapter, and there is Mag. My deepest apologies to everyone.

Peter makes it to brunch twenty minutes late. He slides into the empty chair next to Mag and says airily, “so sorry, I got stuck in traffic.” He had the taxi ride to pull Opal Cloisonné together, and he nearly managed it.

“Ah, the man of the hour!” Mag says cheerily. “So glad you made it.” He claps a broad hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Lucius Slate twists her mouth. “Excellent. Perhaps we can commence with our actual business?”

Peter can guess what small talk Mag was filling the awkward silence with, and is glad he didn’t have to sit through it.

“Certainly, Mx. Slate,” Peter says, hands fluttering nervously. “I am eager to see your gems.”

Lucius brings out a small case of rough cut gems, that Opal and his uncle will appraise and turn into jewelry. It is an easy con, and a long running one. Lucius is eager for her gems to go to buyers who do not ask questions about their certificates, and Peter and Mag are willing to do the boring labour of hauling them to another planet where orange sapphires are rare and prized. They are simply unscrupulous middle men who fit a tidy gem profit around more ambitious projects.

Opal examines the gens, criticizing any visible flaws out loud so his uncle can make note of them. Mag’s eyesight has never been good, and these days is too bad to do much of anything related to thieving, which leaves Peter to do the more delicate work and both of them to scramble for cons that don’t require much sneaking around in the dark.

Opal finishes appraising the last gem and flags down a waiter to order breakfast. He is starving, and no wonder, he thinks wryly. He worked up an appetite this morning. 

* * *

_Juno is sitting in the large jacuzzi tub, leaning back with his eyes closed. The water is still on, filling the room with steam. Juno looks up when Peter enters, cracking his good eye._

_Peter wants to ask invasive questions about the mobility of his eyelid, and chooses not to. He drops his gaze to Juno’s chest instead, visible above the water line._

_“Join me?” Juno asks, and lifts a damp hand out of the bath to offer._

_“Is there room?”_

_Juno’s smile is crooked and cheeky. “I think you’ll fit.”_

* * *

“Opal?” Mag waves a hand in front of his face.

“Yes?” He agrees dazedly.

“The gem market on Venus?” He prompts, and Peter drags his mind back to the present.

“Ah, yes,” he begins. “It’s very...hm... large, and yes, lots and lots of vendors. Good market. Everyone wants a bargain.” He continues on, rambling, filling the space. He feels lonely and unmoored, unable to filly sit in the diner. He takes a heavy drink of the mimosa, and lets Mag take over again. 

* * *

_They end up side by side in the tub, Peter’s leg hooked over Juno’s, their shoulders bumping gently as the water shifts around them._

_“Sorry for making myself at home,” Juno says. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a bath and my back is killing me.”_

_“Did I wear you out?”_

_“Do you think so little of my stamina?” He shifts and sits up a little straighter. “I spent most of yesterday trying to replace a fuel injector.”_

_“Mmm, how industrious of you,” Peter purrs, and traces fingers over Juno’s bicep. “Did you get all covered in grease?”_

_Juno smiles again. Peter isn’t sure what to do with his smiles, the waves of emotion they churn up in him. “Would you like me to say yes?”_

_“Well....” Peter croons, “I do love a lady who knows his way around an engine. And the smell of oil is...inspiring.”_

_“Huh.” Juno looks at him with that piercing blue gaze, like he’s uncovering all of Peter’s secrets, or like he’s taking this new information and coming to an uncomfortably honest conclusion._

_“What?” Peter asks, and then wishes he didn’t._

_“I just thought someone with such soft hands would try to avoid heavy machinery.”_

_“Just because I like to watch doesn’t mean I want to do it myself.”_

_“Mmm,” Juno hums in acknowledgement and then lifts Peter’s hand gently. He traces over the fingers as if examining them for a flaw._

_Peter’s manicure is a dusty lavender this week, and Juno sweeps the pad of his thumb over the spot where the index finger is chipped. Juno’s fingers are rough, but Peter likes it. He knows Juno is a thief, just like him, but he has honest hands. He is not Peter’s kind of thief._

_Juno’s fingers twine through his, and Peter’s heart is beating so fast he can barely breathe. Surely Juno can feel his racing pulse through their joined palms. Surely Juno knows what he is doing to Peter. Surely this is calculated, some sort of revenge. He has figured Peter out. Because if not, if this is just how Juno is naturally, gentle and tender, Peter might dissolve into the steaming bath water right there._

_He has to pull his hand away before he faints._

* * *

The waiter has come and gone with his food before he startles from his memories. He doesn’t remember to thank her, barely even looks at her. He feels guilty, but he is also overwhelmed by memories. 

* * *

_“Let me wash your hair,” Juno offers, when Peter reaches for the shampoo bottle._

_He looks at Juno, and he doesn’t know what is showing on his face. Quickly he schools it back into a pleasant smile, not too startled. “There’s no need,” he says. “I’ll just go over to the shower stall and wash up.”_

_“I want to,” Juno says._

_Peter has never had someone wash his hair. It’s too dangerous; his eyes will be closed and he will be leaned against Juno, and there are a half dozen ways he could kill Peter before he gets his eyes open._

_If Juno wanted him dead, he would already be dead._

_He’s gone too far, ruined everything, and he might as well go a little farther._

_He ends up sitting against Juno’s bent knees, head tilted back, as Juno lathers apple scented shampoo into his hair. When Juno is done, he eases Peter back into the water, one hand under his shoulders, the other combing through his hair._

_Peter remembers the key hidden in his suitcase, and he is grateful the water on his face masks his emotions._

* * *

Mag grabs his face and turns it towards him. “Are you quite alright?” He asks.

“Fine,” Peter says dimly. 

* * *

_Peter climbs out of the bath, and thinks for a moment about throwing up. He isn’t sure what to do; he is so anxious it takes most of his energy not to shake. He pulls the robe around himself and watches Juno towel off, then pull on underwear and shirt._

_He looks at Peter, stock still in the middle of the floor. “You okay?” He asks._

_Peter can’t even lie. Instead, he forces his best smile onto his face. “That was quite a spa treatment. Are you expecting payment?”_

_Juno laughs. “No, Peter. It wasn’t a big deal.”_

* * *

“Please excuse us,” Mag says to Lucius. “I need to speak to my nephew for a moment.” 

* * *

_Peter wants to ask. He wants to say, “Come back tonight?” He wants to say, “Give me your number, in case we ever cross paths.” He wants to say, “Take me away on your spaceship.”_

_Instead he says, “I’m late, I should go.”_

* * *

Mag drags Peter out of the restaurant, into the parking lot. He keeps his grip tight on Peter’s upper arm, even when they stop walking.

“What is going on with you today?” He asks urgently. Is he angry? He’s almost certainly angry, trying to hide it behind concern. “When you said you were hungover, I thought it was our code.”

“It was our code,” Peter says. “You know I don’t drink on the job.”

“Then what?”

“I’m tired,” Peter says, and hates the petulant bite in his voice. He is an adult, not that Mag remembers that.

“So drink some coffee,” Mag snaps. “I need you here, Peter, focused. Lucius is one of our easiest clients, but she still needs careful management.”

“You needed me last night, too,” Peter argues. “I’ve been working nonstop because of _your_ issues, and I’m tired. I’m sorry I can’t flatter Mx. Slate to your satisfaction, but I thought that was your job.” He clenches his jaw, keeps even meaner words in, that it’s Mag’s only job now that he’s slipping, that Peter is the only one managing profitable heists.

“Don’t take that tone with me. I still need you acting professional. It’s like you aren’t even here!”

He’s right, and Peter hates it. He should be better than this, more focused. He should be able to file Juno away, lock him up in the back of his mind. He can take him out later, once he’s alone and he and Mag are safely off planet.

“Please tell me you got his keys,” Mag seethes. “I didn’t pay for that fancy hotel room for you to waste your chance there too.”

Peter smiles dimly, but he can’t make it meet his eyes. “I did one better.” 

* * *

_Juno dresses, then lounges in the bathroom doorway and watches Peter hastily apply makeup. His hair is damp, and he doesn’t have time to blow dry it, so he will have to hope his gel holds through breakfast. He doesn’t have time to perfect his face, but he can at least even out the hectic red in his cheeks, fill in his brows, try to give himself a little dignity._

_He can feel Juno’s eyes on him, and he wonders why he is still there. He should be gone. Peter should say goodbye to him, push him out the door. But he lingers, and it makes Peter’s skin tingle with arousal and fear that are nearly indistinguishable. Juno isn’t staying for him, he tries to reason. He’s just being polite, or he can’t get out of the hotel on his own, or—_

_“Don’t put on lipstick,” Juno says, when Peter grabs it._

_Juno’s right, he should do it in the taxi. But why is he saying it?_

_“I want to kiss you goodbye, and I’ll mess it up.”_

_Peter’s fingers curl tight around the lipstick tube, and he has to take a minute to wipe the mire of emotions from his face. He invents and discards a handful of personas while he collects himself, and settles on one very close to Opal but a little needier, a little less put together. People like to think they’re seeing vulnerability, even if it is calculated._

_He slips the lipstick into his pocket, zips up his makeup bag._

_“I don’t want you to go,” he says, voice low and earnest._

_“You’re the one who has a flight off planet tonight,” Juno says._

_Is that the lie Peter told? He can barely remember. It’s a common enough story; one that ensures there is never a second date._

_“Yes,” Peter agrees, and then hedges, “It is quite a late flight.”_

_He turns on his chair and tilts his face up to be kissed. Juno obliges, his hands gently cupping Peter’s face. The kiss lingers, their lips pressing together and sliding apart, and Peter takes hold of Juno’s shirt, holding him close._

_When Juno pulls away, Peter gasps in misery. “Juno—“ he manages, only partially faking the way his voice trembles._

_“Tell you what,” Juno says. “There’s a Martian restaurant near the ship docks. I’m going to eat dinner there around seven.”_

_Peter’s next kiss is a little desperate, messy and fast. He pulls away and glances at the clock. 10:57 am. He’s out of time._

* * *

“A date?” Mag snaps. “What good is a date?”

“He’ll invite me back to the ship,” Peter says. “I can figure out where everything is before you even get there, and then once he’s asleep you can sneak on.”

“Are you sure you can manage that?”

Peter doesn’t know why Mag doubts him so much, except for the pressure they are under.

“You know I can seduce him,” Peter bites out. “I’ve already done it once.”

“That was when he was alone,” Mag argues. “First rule of thieving: never go in without backup. You know how dangerous everyone on that ship is, and you would be alone in their den.”

“Juno wouldn’t hurt me,” Peter says.

Mag’s lips twist. “So you’re on a first name basis with him now?”

Peter opens his mouth, but freezes as hot shame runs through him. If only Mag knew how close they were—and Mag should know. It is Peter’s duty to tell him.

He can’t do it. Mag will be too disappointed.

“Juno’s a good person,” Peter says instead, and his voice comes out small. He swallows nervously and tries again. “And I can take care of myself. I—“

He and Mag have never been delicate in their communication before, and now isn’t the time to start, but he doesn’t know how to articulate how intensely they fucked, let alone how tenderly Juno treated him. “We... I think he likes me. I think he’ll believe me, whatever I tell him.” 

* * *

_Juno presses one last kiss to Peter’s jaw, right below his ear, before he walks off down the street. Peter has a moment to watch him before the taxi pulls up._

* * *

Mag claps a hand to Peter’s shoulder. “Alright, my boy. We’ll try it your way. But if things go wrong, you follow my lead.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno and Peter have dinner together, and it's maybe, probably, just a date

Juno is sitting at the Martian restaurant when Peter arrives, eating yucca fries and reading. Peter approaches from his blind side—not on purpose—and Juno doesn’t notice him until he slides into the empty seat. Juno flinches a little.

“Hello dear. Did your date stand you up?”

Juno relaxes. “It looks like a better alternative just showed up.” He pushes his fries towards Peter. “Did your meeting go well?”

“Fine,” Peter says blandly. He can’t think of anything else to say about it, so he takes a small piece of food and nibbles on it.

“Hey,” Juno says, and reaches across the table to touch the cuff of Peter’s shirt. “We match.”

They are both wearing red—Juno a kitenge with embroidered yoke, Peter a button down with pearl buttons.

A waiter interrupts them.

Juno orders, and Peter says, “I’ll have what the lady is having.”

Juno’s lips twitch. “Do you like spicy food?”

“I do, in fact,” Peter says haughtily. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

“Good to know. Now give me a kiss.”

* * *

_It takes Peter 2 hours to get dressed. He hovers by the mirror in the motel room he shares with Mag, trying to choose between the half dozen shirts he owns at the moment, hesitating over every makeup choice._

_Mag sits at the tiny desk, pouring over blueprints. The crew of the Carte Blanche has beat them to the Gilded Globe, but once Peter steals that out from under their noses, they will know someone else is on the same trail as them. He and Mag will have to move fast to find the Blade before their rivals do. It is stored in a secure facility, one they will have to hack into. Another job for Peter to do._

_“I don’t know why you’re worried,” Mag says. “I’ve seen how Juno Steel dresses.”_

_Peter puts down his lip liner and looks at Mag. “What do you mean?”_

_“I doubt he’ll notice what you’re wearing, unless you show up to the restaurant naked.”_

* * *

The food is mostly vegetables, light and crispy and covered in deep orange spices, served with a side of flat dark bread. Juno scoops his onto the bread with ease that betrays familiarity, rolls it up, and lifts it with his fingers. Peter attempts to mimic him.

“Hey, I didn’t leave a key at your place, did I?” Juno asks, his voice light and casual. “I’m missing my house key.”

“I didn’t see it,” Peter lies easily. “Did you call the front desk?”

Juno wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“Did you get home okay?” Peter asks, the concern in his voice flawlessly constructed.

“Oh, sure,” Juno says. “J—Someone else was on the ship to let me in, but until I get a new one made I have to tell someone where I am and when I’ll be home, like some sort of teenager with a curfew.”

Peter giggles at Juno’s aggrieved expression, and then thinks of a complication. “So... is there any chance of me going back to your place after this?”

“I don’t know,” Juno says slowly. “We don’t usually have people over. My crew mates are very private.”

Oh. Of course. Well, Peter has many incentives to change Juno’s mind.

“I understand...” he says soothingly. “But...”

“I know,” Juno agrees. “I gotta respect their boundaries though.”

“Even if I promise to be very quiet?”

Juno laughs. “I don’t believe you, not after last night.”

Peter’s mind catches up with the implications, and he suddenly feels dizzy. If he knew Peter had a flight tonight, and he wasn’t planning on taking Peter back to his room, then he was just.... asking Peter on a date. He was being nice.

He pulls the conversation back to safer territory.

“Well,” he declares dramatically, “I suppose I’ll just have to suck your cock in the bathrooms here.”

Juno chokes on his water and sets it down with a thump. “I’m flattered, but I’m not sure my cock is worth the risk.”

Peter arches an eyebrow and adjusts his glasses. “As a connoisseur of genitalia, I assure you that yours is exceptional.”

“Connoisseur, huh.”

“Besides, you made me come three times last night, I think I owe you.”

Juno makes a little skeptical noise in the back of his throat. “Maybe I liked doing it.”

“Maybe I want to suck you off.”

* * *

_“They stole the Globe, fair and square,” Peter says. “It’s their prize.”_

_“And we will steal it from them, because we are thieves too.”_

_Peter knows what people say about thieves and honor._

_“You want the cure mother too,” Mag says. “Our names will go down in history if we manage this.”_

_“But everyone on that ship will know we did it, and hate us. Buddy Aurinko—“ Peter’s hero, ever since he was a greasy teenager hiding in alcoves and listening to gossip. Buddy and Vespa were the greatest criminals in the galaxy, unstoppable and also dizzyingly altruistic. The sort of heroes who might have plucked Peter out of obscurity and brought him to mastery._

* * *

The restaurant bathroom is small, no stalls, and Peter has barely locked the door before Juno is kissing him, mouth hot against his, hands in his hair. Peter groans, every nerve in his body lighting up like they haven’t spent any time apart, and he runs his hands over every curve of Juno’s body in desperation.

“This is a bad idea,” Juno whispers against Peter’s lips. “What if we get caught?”

“Worth it,” Peter answers desperately.

Juno pulls back so their eyes meet, and Peter can see the excitement in his eye, pupil blown wide with adrenaline. Juno likes this too.

He turns them, pins Juno against the wall, and then hitches Juno’s shirt up, slides a hand down the front of his pants, and strokes as well as he can. Juno bucks his hips, his kiss never wavering, but Peter can’t undo Juno’s fly and stroke his cock at the same time. Juno takes his hands out of Peter’s hair to do it for him. Peter sinks to his knees.

“You sure?” Juno asks, voice hushed and rough, and Peter aches. He wants Juno inside him, his fingers, his cock, spoiling him, but Peter promised.

He pulls down Juno’s pants and gives several quick strokes to make Juno as hard as he can be, precome leaking from the tip, and then he looks up and meets Juno’s eye again.

“Fuck,” Juno breathes out. “You’re so beautiful.”

He slides a hand into Peter’s hair. He doesn’t guide Peter’s head, just waits, applying a bare hint of pressure, while Peter runs tongue and them lips over the ruddy tip of his cock.

Juno whimpers. It’s the most satisfying sound Peter has ever heard.

“Quiet now,” Peter murmurs, before he takes Juno in his mouth.

* * *

_“You’re too old to be this naive, Pete. You think you know him just because you fucked him?”_

_“He’s a good person,” Peter insists. “I just think—“_

_“We’re good people,” Mag interrupts. “And we have to look out for ourselves, because no one else will.”_

* * *

“Peter—“ Juno chokes out. “You have to—I’m close, I’ll—“ His hand is so tight on Peter’s hair that tears stream down Peter’s face.

He doesn’t stop working Juno with his mouth, his hands stroking up and down the fronts of Juno’s thighs. He knows Juno is close from the way Peter can feel his heartbeat in his cock, the way his thighs are trembling, the obscene noises he is making. Peter doesn’t speed up, instead draws the moment out, pulls back, runs his tongue around the ridge of the head, one hand on the base.

Juno makes a breathless keening noise, and Peter looks up at him. His chest is heaving in great gasps of air, and his has put one hand in his mouth and bit down, muffling any noises.

He wants Juno to cry out his name, but they can’t get caught, even if a little part of Peter wants to. The stories he could tell about it would be legendary.

“Go on, Juno Dear,” he whispers. “I’ll take care of you.”

He swallows Juno down again, and Juno’s hips stutter, press his cock to the back of Peter’s throat. There is that hitching gasp, a cry with no volume behind it, as Juno finishes. Peter swallows, Juno’s cock so deep inside him that he can’t taste the cum sliding down his throat as Juno pulses against his tongue. He waits as long as he can, gently pumping Juno’s cock until the shaking stops.

Peter pulls away, and Juno’s knees sag. Peter catches him a second before his knees hit cold tile, and lowers him slowly the rest of the way. Juno clings to him, hands fisted in Peter’s clothes, face pressed to his neck.

“Holy shitting fuck,” he mumbles.

Peter rubs his back, satisfaction warming his chest. Watching Juno come apart at his touch is a reward all it’s own.

“God damn,” Juno breathes. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“The same place most people do, I expect.”

Juno’s laugh is more a rumble in his chest than a sound. His fingers trace up over Peter’s shoulder and the base of his neck to slide through his hair, and Peter fancies that he is silently apologizing for pulling so hard, not that Peter minded in the least.

After a minute he moves away and meets Peter’s eyes. There is something sad and confused there, like he is searching for some answer, and for a moment Peter is sure that Juno knows he is being played. He feels sick again, the afterglow abruptly ruined, but Juno doesn’t speak. Instead, he kisses Peter very softly.

It hurts even more.

Peter struggles to kiss back, to remember the emotions that filled him moments before, but just as he is relaxing, Juno stops.

“Sorry,” he says wryly. “I think it’s your turn.”

“Nonsense,” Peter says, even though he is so wet he has probably soaked through his briefs, and every movement chafes his dick. “I still owe you one.”

“Peter...” Juno says softly, and Peter is sure he’s going to argue. But he just kisses the corner of Peter’s mouth, then stands and does up his pants.

They get dessert, flaky buttery pastries soaked in honey syrup. Peter is delighted to discover that Juno has a sweet tooth, and watches Juno eat more than he eats himself. Juno shamelessly sucks honey off his fingers, and smiles when he catches Peter‘s hungry eyes on him.

Peter feels like there is a yawning chasm inside him that will never be filled.

Juno pays for dinner.

They linger on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Peter wants to kiss him goodbye, but instead he wraps his arms around himself and digs his nails into his skin. Every time he thinks about touching Juno, he’s sure if he starts he won’t stop. He has stopped, every time, but it’s becoming more dangerous to tempt his self control.

“I guess this is goodbye,” Juno says.

“I guess so,” Peter agrees, and is a little bit grateful. Guilt is starting to eclipse any other feeling. Even the way his dick throbs when he thinks about Juno’s mouth is a reminder of what he can’t have.

“What time did you say your flight is?” Juno asks.

Peter looks at his watch, and invents a time. “1:45 am.” It’s a little over four hours away, plenty of time for either of them to suggest another activity.

Neither of them do.

Peter has to do something. He is usually so good at this, subtly controlling the conversation, steering it towards what he wants.

Ah, there is his problem. He doesn’t know what he wants.

He follows a script, rests his fingertips against Juno’s wrist, kisses him chastely.

“Thanks for dinner,” he says. “If you’re ever on Neptune again...”

Conflict wars on Juno’s face. His emotions are easy to read, but Peter can only guess what he is conflicted about. He wants to ask. He doesn’t.

“Better not to,” Juno says. “It was nice to meet you, Peter.”

Peter swallows down a lump in his throat and smiles. “Likewise, Juno Steel.”

* * *

_“Drop it,” Mag orders, and begins to fold a blueprint with a great rustling of paper. “We both know you’re like this because you fancy yourself in love with a pretty face who gave you the time of day. Don’t pretend you’re the moral one here.” Mag sneers on the word “moral.”_

_Honor and thieves. Peter chokes on the words again._

_Juno will be so disappointed in him._

_And if he ever gets the curemother, if his name is spread across the stars, he will be famous, but Juno will know._

* * *

Peter walks away, down the street and back towards his motel. Juno calls his name right before he turns the corner. It echoes in the quiet evening air, and Peter freezes in fear, scanning the sidewalks. No one else seems to care, or even notice.

Juno catches up to him, breathing uneven.

“Come back to my place,” he pants.

“But your crew,” Peter protests.

“Fuck ‘em,” Juno says. “I’ll beg for forgiveness tomorrow. We’ve got four hours, right? Let’s make the most of it.”

Peter has to say yes. This is what he told Mag he could manage, this is what they need. Juno is inviting Peter onto the Carte Blanche, no sneaking necessary. It’s the ideal scenario.

He can’t say yes. He can’t live with himself if he deceives Juno for another minute.

He’s forgiven himself for worse crimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had something funny to say here. I accidentally wrote even more fucking than originally planned so the next chapter is most of the way done.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter maintains the lie, until he doesn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay some mild warnings in this one, check the end notes for emotional badness

Juno’s room is small, the bunk only wide enough for one. Books clutter the bedside table, clothes litter the floor. A gauzy scarf covers the single lamp, keeping the room dim. Maybe Juno won’t see the mounting panic on Peter’s face.

He can’t talk without letting something slip, so he kisses Juno instead, putting all of his energy into perfecting it. Juno leans back against the closed door and tugs Peter’s shirt free before sliding his hands underneath, gently stroking up Peter’s skin.

The strategy almost works. Juno’s hands have not diminished in their power, and his kisses would bring any man to his knees.

He lingers on Peter’s lips, caressing. Peter sags against him.

“What do you want to do?” Juno asks, then kisses Peter’s neck.

“Fuck me,” Peter decides. “Pull my hair. Hurt me. Oh—“ Juno’s roving hand reaches his nipple, sweeping the pad of his thumb against it, while the other sits at the base of his spine, pressing their hips together. Peter arches into Juno, spreading his legs and rubbing against Juno’s thigh.

Juno hums considering, kisses his jaw. “You want ropes?”

“No, no ropes.”

Is that what Juno wants? To tie Peter up, have his way with him? Usually when Peter seduces someone, they look at him and see someone foolish, someone to exert power over. Juno isn’t like that, doesn’t demand anything from Peter.

Juno slides a hand down Peter’s pants, strokes his cock, and Peter forget all other trains of thought. 

Peter ends up face down on the bed, knees splayed, ass in the air, begging.

“Fuck me,” he pleads, and his voice doesn’t sound like his.

Juno hushes him. “I’ll get there.”

“No,” Peter argues. “I want you now. Don’t—“

“Okay,” Juno says, and he sounds like he’s laughing. “I got you.”

There is the sound of him undressing, the clink of his belt, the thud of his clothes on the floor, and then the rustle of a condom wrapper. Then his hands are on Peter’s ass, holding him steady, and Juno pushes in.

It’s too much, too fast, and the burn is more pain than pleasure. Peter sets his jaw. If he just breathes through it, soon he’ll loosen up and it will feel good again, the glorious fullness he has spent all day missing.

Juno’s hips roll back, then snap forward, stretching Peter past bearing, and he can’t stop the little whimper that escapes his mouth.

Juno stops, still inside, and asks, “Peter?” His voice is low and rough again, checking in.

“I’m fine.”

“Give me a color.”

“Fine,” Peter insists. “Please don’t stop.”

“Am I hurting you?”

“It will pass.”

Juno swears softly and pulls out, and shame floods Peter. He is grateful that his face is pressed to the pillows, so Juno can’t see the way he flushes at Juno’s rejection of him.

“Time out,” Juno says.

“No,” Peter begs frantically. He can’t slow down, or he’ll fall apart. “No, Juno, I want—“

“I won’t hurt you,” Juno says, and for the first time there is more in his voice than irritation or concern. He speaks with utter finality.

“I like a little pain,” Peter says in an attempt at flirtation. It might work better if he weren’t currently spread eagled on a ship bunk, face pressed into a pillow.

“Me too,” Juno says. “And I at least know how to get it safely. Roll over.”

That note of command again. Peter does as he is told. Juno stands over him, arms crossed, jaw set, but his expression softens when he meets Peter’s gaze. He is so beautiful, and even now Peter is distracted by it, trying to memorize every curve of fat and muscle, the heady presence of him.

“We don’t have to fuck,” Juno says. “We can just cuddle, or I’ll go down on you, but—“

No, he can’t cuddle, not if he wants to be able to leave. “We just went too fast,” Peter says. “I promise.”

Juno raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say ‘I told you so,’ for which Peter is grateful.

Juno crawls onto the bed, caging Peter between his thick arms, and kisses him. He moves slowly, hands tracing the same paths of the night before, teasing Peter open, showering him with kisses. He fingers Peter slowly, so slowly that Peter curses and begs, and Juno looks up at him, and smiles that crooked smile, and Peter wants to kiss the smug look off his face, wants to tell him everything, wants to run away with him.

Peter feels naked, exposed all the way to his black and selfish heart.

He can’t look at Juno anymore.

“Will you pull my hair?” He asks, and his voice is thin and shaking. “Like you did earlier.”

Juno presses his fingers deeper inside Peter, stroking gently as he replies, “you can have anything you want.”

He pulls out then, gently turns Peter over, positions him to his liking, and slowly winds his fingers into Peter’s hair. For a moment, Peter is worried that Juno will only tease him.

“Ready?” Juno asks.

“Please.”

Juno slides in as his fist clenches in Peter’s hair, pulling his head back, and a shockwave runs through Peter’s body. This time, there is no pain, only a sudden heat as Juno’s cock pushed against his walls. He might cry out, he isn’t sure.

“You good?” Juno asks, and at least his voice is unsteady too.

“Yes.”

“Don’t lie to me, Peter.” Juno’s voice is a growl, commanding, and Peter tenses, already on the edge from all the slow and sensuous prep and now this—

Juno isn’t moving. It takes everything in Peter to manage his words. “You feel so good inside me, please—please—“

Juno’s grip tightens. “Please what?”

Juno is toying with him. Peter should have seen this coming, from the smug way Juno coaxes orgasms from him, the way Juno takes care of him, and now Peter has given him permission, in some way, ceded any control to him.

Peter should be worried, but he trusts Juno.

“Fuck me,” Peter gasps.

Juno rolls his hips, just barely, like he is adjusting position, and Peter whines, high and keening.

“Fuck me, what?”

When he gets revenge on Juno, he’ll make him beg to come for hours.

“Fuck me, please. Please, Juno—“ his voice cracks.

“That’s right,” Juno praises, and he finally starts to move, one hand still in Peter’s hair, the other tight on his hip. His thrusts into Peter, deep and slow, and Peter squeezes his eyes shut, every nerve tingling. He uses his last ounce of brain power to bite down on Juno’s pillow, so that when he screams the sound is muffled.

Now that Juno has begun, he picks up speed, the force of him overwhelming. Peter wants to praise him, wants to speak, wants to touch himself, but all he can do is hang on, every thrust bringing him closer. There is no controlling Juno’s pace, nothing gentle, there is only surrendering his body and knowing that eventually, tragically, it will end.

His orgasm takes him by surprise, shaking through his body, and lights bloom behind his eyes.

Juno doesn’t slow, doesn’t falter, and by the time Peter gets his breath back he can feel his stomach coiling tight again. It’s too much, his skin burning, his muscles tight and Juno just keeps going, his thrusts in time with Peter’s heartbeat, pressing him farther and harder into the pillow.

“I’m close,” Juno grunts out, and his rhythm skips.

Peter tries to speaks, gulps for air and tries again, manages a, “yeah,” of acknowledgement.

Juno’s orgasm tips Peter over the edge again, and he fully leaves his body for a minute, aware of nothing but the shockwaves of pleasure levitating him off the bed.

He comes back to himself slowly, first in the places Juno is touching him, then his hands where he is still holding the pillow in a death grip, and then rest of him, worn out and trembling.

Juno pulls out, and Peter collapses into a limp tangle of limbs on the bed. He listens to Juno move around the room before he crawls into bed and spoons up behind Peter.

“You okay?” He murmurs, and runs a hand along Peter’s hip.

“Better than okay,” Peter replies. He rolls over so they are chest to chest, and slides one of his legs between Juno’s thighs. He kisses Juno gently, sucking his full lower lip between his, and Juno presses a broad hand to the small of Peter’s back, holding them close.

“This is really nice,” Juno murmurs against Peter’s lips. “If you could...”

“Yeah,” Peter says.

“Wish I could wake up with you.”

“Yeah,” Peter manages, and presses his face to Juno’s shoulder. Here, with his eyes shut, it is easier to be honest. “If I could, I would stay.”

“You could,” Juno says.

“My job—“ Peter lies. “I’m always gone, out in the stars. You—“ he can’t ask Juno to come with him, but already he is turning the proposal over in his head, trying to find a way to explain everything. There is no answer that doesn’t reveal his betrayal.

Juno doesn’t answer. He traces his fingers gently across Peter’s back, skimming across his shoulder blades, his vertebrae. It feels so nice that Peter begins to drift off, warm like he never is on a spaceship.

He jerks awake with a shock, and Juno lets go. “You okay?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Peter says, and sits up. “My flight.”

Fuck his flight. Fuck his lies. Fuck his job. Fuck Mag.

He begins to look for his clothes, strewn across Juno’s floor, mixed with his. He hears Juno moving behind him, but he doesn’t look.

“Where are my underwear?” He asks frantically, buttoning up the tiny pearl buttons on his shirt. Somehow, they all survived.

“Dunno,” Juno says. He gropes around on the floor for his pants, pulls out his comms. “You still have an hour.”

“I don’t—“ Peter swallows. He feels like screaming, and his words tumble out before he can stop them. “If I don’t leave now, I won’t—“

He can’t find his underwear. He gives up and yanks on his pants.

“Fuck,” he says. “My makeup.”

“It’s not so bad. Most of it came off at the restaurant.” Juno still hasn’t moved the bed, and when Peter turns to look at him, he’s propped up on one elbow, the sheets not covering anything to speak of, just watching Peter.

Peter had wiped rivulets of mascara and all of his lipstick off that afternoon, but when he finds his compact mirror, it reveals eyeliner smudged across his temple.

“Not so bad,” he mutters sardonically, and checks his coat pockets for a handkerchief.

“There’s makeup remover in the desk,” Juno says. His voice is oddly flat. Not angry, exactly, just empty. And he still hasn’t moved.

Peter can’t think about it. He finds Juno’s bottle, then dabs off his makeup until he looks a little less debauched.

He meets his hectic eyes in the mirror and knows it was only partly effective.

He sits on the little desk chair and pulls his shoes on.

“This is it then,” Juno says.

It sounds so final. Peter exhales. They both knew. They both knew. Peter told him that much.

“Yeah,” Peter says. He ties his laces, stands and walks to the bed. When he bends down to kiss Juno goodbye, Juno shakes his head.

“Don’t,” he says, and offers no further explanation. Peter doesn’t push it. He turns away.

When Peter is nearly to the door, Juno’s voice stops him again. “Wait.”

Peter stops and looks at Juno one last time.

Juno is sitting up, legs splayed over the side of the bed, feet on the floor. He looks ready to stand up and run after Peter again.

“You don’t have to go, Peter.”

He wishes he hadn’t told Juno his name. It makes this all so much harder. He takes a deep, unsteady breath. He wants nothing more than to stay.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Juno knows. He must.

If he knew, he would never have taken Peter to bed, bought him dinner, smiled while he kissed him. Peter tries to think of the lies Opal told. Opal was ambitious, tired of jewelry sales, eager to hear stories of Juno’s exploits, transporting goods all across the galaxy.

The irony, that they were both lying to each other and falling for each other anyway, because Juno can’t lie away his good heart.

“I do,” Peter says. 

The Carte Blanche is a firefly subclass, good for transporting merchandise and little else. Once upon a time, they were standard across the galaxy. Peter has bribed, booked, and stolen passage on enough of them to have their layouts mostly memorized, and when he leaves Juno’s room, it is easy to find the engine room, which is empty this time of night, where the hum of the generator will cover any noises he makes.

He texts Mag.

“We can’t do this.”

Mag responds quickly. “R u safe?”

“Yes. Leaving the ship now.”

As he expected, Mag calls him. His comms hums in his hand, and he answers. He would rather not have this conversation face to face anyway.

“What happened?” Mag’s voice is sharp with worry.

“Nothing,” Peter says. “I mean, I just won’t do it. I won’t steal from them. It isn’t right.”

“Is this about Juno Steel?”

Peter can’t pretend it isn’t, but this is about more than a pretty face. “Thieves are supposed to have a code, Mag.”

“We break the code once—“

“And no one will ever work with us again.” He hesitates, doesn’t say the next thought, that Juno might like him very much, that he likes Juno very much, that if he had only asked, Juno might have shared the information and the globe with him.

It’s too naive to even speak aloud, let alone within Mag’s hearing. No thief would share that sort of glory with a practical stranger.

“Peter, I need that curemother,” Mag says. “You wouldn’t let your old man die, would you?”

“We could ask them,” Peter says. He hates how his voice thins out when he speaks to Mag. He is always more a boy than a man when Mag looks at him.

“Peter, I don’t have time for this stupidity,” Mag says. “We have talked about this. I don’t care how big Juno Steel’s prick is—“

“Mag, please—“

“Don’t ‘Mag’ me.” His voice twists up mockingly. “You didn’t have to fuck him last night, and you definitely didn’t have to go on that stupid date tonight, but apparently getting laid is more important than me.”

Peter closes his eyes, drops his head, hunches his shoulders protectively, as if Mag is there to see him. He is very close to tears. “You told me to seduce him.”

“I thought you would kiss him, pick his pocket. Don’t blame this romantic nonsense on me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Juno Steel isn’t gonna love you, kid.”

“I never thought he would,” Peter says. He did know, kind of, always, even when Juno fed him pastries and washed his hair, but he had hoped.

“Good. Glad that’s settled. Now get me that globe.”

Peter is shaking, and he isn’t sure he can stand. He is stupid, too stupid to plan this, too stupid for hope for anything except what he and Mag have always had, scrabbling for survival in the dark between stars.

Even if Juno won’t love him back, Peter can’t betray him like this.

“We have to find another way,” Peter says.

“Oh? You got any ideas that will move faster than this cancer?”

“No,” Peter admits. An extremely lucrative heist, maybe, one that could buy Mag the medical care they can’t get, and pay someone not to look at his name too closely.

They have no money, no time, no other options.

Peter wipes his eyes, and stands.

Mag keeps speaking. “Look kid, I get it. He’s nice to you, right? I’ve done stupid shit for a pretty lady myself. But once we have the curemother, we’ll be richer than god. You’ll have everything you want, anyone that you want.”

“Where will the money come from?” Peter asks numbly.

“Where do you think? We’ll sell the curemother to the highest bidder and live like kings.”

Peter feels like he’s been hit in the chest with a wrecking ball, and hot anger sears through him. “We can’t sell it!” He hisses. “People need it—“

“People need it now, too, and they can’t get it,” Mag says, voice patronizingly calm. “We aren’t making the world worse, just maintaining the status quo while we get rich.”

“We were going to give it away.”

“We never agreed to that. C’mon, Pete, we can’t eat fame.”

Peter pulls the comms away from his ear and wordlessly shuts it off.

He knows what he wants now, and his chest aches with the knowledge that it’s too late. He inhales, and it feels like inhaling glass.

He pulls his dark jacket tight around him, his flashy shirt concealed, and creeps out of the engine room. The ship is dark, and still, and he pads silently towards the exit.

He gets to the loading bay, which is pitch black, and fumbles in his pocket for a tiny flashlight. He only has to find the control panel, and he can go, off into the night to lick his wounds.

The overhead light kicks on with a great crackling hum of electricity. Seated right in front of the loading hatch is a beautiful woman in a dark dressing gown, her flaming hair loose around her face. Another woman who is smaller, sharper, leans against the hatch itself. She holds a knife as long as her forearm. 

Peter knows who they are.

“Well, well, well,” the red head says, in a deep, melodic voice. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Peter continues to use sex in unhealthy ways, but it's a little more explicit in this chapter. He's going through a time 
> 
> -Mag is peak Mag in this chapter, which is to say manipulative and emotionally abusive. No worse than in canon, but it wasn't fun to write. I really hate that guy. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this and I'm sorry for ruining Peter's afterglow. He deserves to get dicked down without feeling massively guilty about it, but that didn't happen in canon either so at least I'm consistent


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That’s five people. The whole crew. Watching him sweat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut this chapter, sorry, but some light bondage, in a sense

Peter smiles, letting his discomfort show through. “I’m terribly sorry,” he stammers. “I’m uh—I was just visiting Juno. He and I—well—I was just going.”

“Yes, I’ve heard all about you,” says Buddy Aurinko. “And I know why you’re here. Darling, tie him up, will you?”

An enormous man Peter didn’t notice at first steps out of the shadows. It is a testament to how dazzling Buddy is that Peter didn’t first see him, didn’t scan the room for other enemies. Well, Vespa Ilkay’s big knife was also very distracting.

Peter steps back, hand going to his pocket for a knife. He has a plasma cutter somewhere in his jacket, he knows it, but he’s all turned around. He hopes there aren’t tear tracks on his face, that he looks cool and dignified as these legends of crime handily take him down.

“I would advise you not to resist,” the man says in a gruff voice. “It would waste both our times. If you fight me, I will win.”

Is this the Unnatural Disaster? He was rumored to be travelling with Buddy Aurinko, and Peter has read his file, but even with the list of his past crimes, Peter didn’t expect him to be this… large.

He finds the plasma knife, finally, whips it out, turns it on. “Don’t come any closer,” he says.

Vespa Ilkay steps forward, her knife longer than his and reflecting the overhead fluorescents back into Peter’s eyes.

“Drop the knife,” she growls, “Or I’ll carve you up and hang you out for Juno to find.” She doesn’t sound too upset about the process.

“I’d do what she tells you,” Buddy says. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“But we will,” Vespa adds gleefully.

There is a rustling noise behind Peter, and the tip of a blaster presses right between his shoulder blades. “Drop the knife, Peter Nureyev.”

It is Juno.

Peter flicks the power on the knife off and drops it. He is filled with shock, and shame, and a little bit of relief. It’s over. He’s out of places to run. Juno knows. He knows his name, he must know… everything.

“Good. Now let the Big Guy tie you up.”

The Big Guy steps forward, grabs Peter by the shoulders with two enormous hands, and pushes him into a chair. Peter crosses his arms so that he will have a little more flexibility once the ropes are tied. He has a box cutter up the sleeve of his jacket, if he does need to escape.

Buddy’s large henchman does not take chances with him. He loops the ropes around Peter methodically, and kneels behind Peter to tie him up. The room is eerily silent, and all eyes are on him.

Juno stands, blaster in one hand. It’s not pointed at Peter, but it could be, very quickly. His mouth is set in a grim line, and his brow is furrowed.

A woman stands with him. She is wearing pink pajamas covered in orange cats, and holding a large screened comms to her chest.

That’s five people. The whole crew. Watching him sweat.

“Well, alright then,” Peter says, trying and failing for cheerful. “This is a bit awkward. What is it you want to know?”

“You’re the one sneaking around my ship,” Buddy Aurinko says. “What were you here to steal?”

“Nothing,” Peter says, which is the truth, even if it only recently became the truth.

“You left my room twenty minutes ago,” Juno says flatly. “Where were you in between?”

“I got lost,” Peter lies.

“Cut the crap,” Juno says. “I know who you are.”

Peter should never have given him his name.

“You played me,” he says, and his voice quavers.

Juno stalks towards him, one hand tight around his blaster. If he shoots Peter at this range, it won’t matter if the gun is set to stun.

Instead, Juno puts a hand into Peter’s left pocket and pulls out his key, still attached to the cute little rabbit charm.

“Actually, you played me.”

Someone laughs, probably Vespa, just based on the harsh-edged cackle. Peter doesn’t look away from Juno’s face. “How—”

“I have a habit of getting kidnapped, or knocked out, or losing my keys in dumb places, so Rita put a tracker on me. One you took when you took my ship fob.”

Peter looks at the charm again and his heart sinks.

“So the date—“

Juno’s face is hard, his eye flat. “I didn’t know when I asked you to meet me, this morning. Even at dinner, I hoped it was an honest mistake. But a dropped key doesn’t travel uptown to a creperie, then all over town, then right to a Martian restaurant by coincidence.”

“You let me—” he remembers his audience and stops before he says the rest of the sentence.

_You let me suck you off in a public bathroom._

_You let me into your room._

_You let me think you wanted me._

“And my name?”

“That was Rita too.” He looks over his shoulder at the woman in her pajamas.

“Wasn’t too hard,” she says cheerfully. “Once I checked in to the tracker to figure out where Mistah Steel lost his keys—that’s the third one he’s lost this year, I don’t know how he can be such a good detective and so good at losing things himself—“

“Doesn’t count as losing them,” Juno grumbles. “I found them again, and also they got stolen.”

“You’re the one who decided to sleep with someone trying to steal from you, that’s on you, boss. Anyway, I saw that Small Fry was all the way on the other side of town—“

“I’m sorry, what?” Peter hates to interrupt, but he’s rapidly feeling like he’s hallucinating, and this isn’t helping.

“Oh, Small Fry, that’s what Mistah Steel named his tracking charm. Anyway, Mistah Steel drove over to where his keys were and saw you there. And then I looked up Opal Cloisonné and none of them look anything like you, so then I started looking up Peters. Peter’s not a very common name, and then I remembered a documentary I watched about Brahma last year and it really rang a bell, so I went and looked it up and there you were. I’m real sorry to hear about all of that unpleasantness, Mistah Nureyev, no one deserves that, and for the record, I don’t think you’re evil, even if you did kind of seduce Mistah Steel with malicious intentions. Anyway, once I was pretty sure who you were I hacked into the human records on New Kinshasa just to be sure and there you were, easy peasy.”

Easy. Peasy.

Peter is dizzy.

“But—the restaurant.” He drags his gaze back to Juno, begging for some explanation.

“I hoped I was wrong,” Juno said flatly.

“And then—you invited me back here.”

“That is an excellent question,” says the Big Guy. “You knew by then that he had stolen your keys and lied about it. I do not understand why helping him break in was wise.”

Juno hunches his shoulders up defensively. “Look, there aren’t a lot of opportunities to get laid when we’re floating around in space all the time, and I knew he was gonna sneak in anyway.”

_You don’t have to do this._

He had known. He had been trying to tell Peter, and Peter had been too cocky to listen.

“You could just buy a vibrator like a regular person,” Rita says.

“I don’t need to know about that, Rita.”

“Mistah Steel, I know plenty about your sex life, so you don’t have to take that tone. Fair’s fair. Don’t make me bring up the time I had to rescue you because Cecil—“

“Yes okay!” Juno says loudly. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“It was rather irresponsible of you,” Buddy admonishes. “I know we were all warned he would be here, but we didn’t have to hand him our goods on a silver platter.”

Juno mumbles something too garbled even for Peter to pick out.

“I’m sorry Darling, I didn’t catch that,” Buddy says, in the kind of tone that makes Peter want to sit up straight and enunciate, and he isn’t even the one being spoken to.

Juno rubs his ear. “Thought I could talk him out of it.”

Buddy lets out a genteel giggle, and Vespa barks out a loud belly laugh. “You thought you’d fuck him so good he would decide not to rob us?”

Juno shrugs.

“No one’s dick game is that good, Steel, not even mine.”

“I mean,” Peter interrupts, “I did decide not to rob you.”

“And we caught him before he made it off the ship so—hang on, what?”

Peter shrugs as well as he can while still tied up. “My… partner and I had a disagreement, and I decided I would rather you find the curemother than him.”

“And you were just going to leave?” Juno’s voice cracks a little bit.

Peter searches for an explanation that doesn’t betray Mag utterly. But the honest answer is also the one that might benefit him the most, for once in his life. He looks at everyone in the room, starting at him intently. The Big Guy, arms folded, expression impassable, Vespa Ilkay with a grin on her face like this is endlessly entertaining, Buddy Aurinko looking, possibly, vaguely impressed. Rita isn’t looking at him anymore, furiously typing something into her handheld device.

He looks at Juno last. He’s relaxed his blaster.

“Can we speak alone?” Peter asks, hoping Juno will hear the sincerity in his voice. He only wants to speak freely, without everyone in this room speculating on his feelings.

“Anything you want to say to Juno can be said in front of us,” Buddy says. “We’re a family here.”

Peter grimaces. “All the more reason to—”

“She’s right,” Juno says. “And besides, I’m not interested in whatever placating lie you’re coming up with. You already walked out on me.”

“Yes, well…” Peter falls silent.

“I’d like you to start talking,” Buddy says. “And come up with something really spectacular to say, or I’ll throw you off the ship for breaking Juno’s heart and we’ll go find the curemother without you.”

Peter opens his mouth, and then her words sink in.

_Without you._

That means there’s a chance she’s considering him as a crew member.

Peter can’t look at her, and he can’t look at the crew, stony faced and suspicious, and he doesn’t want to look at Juno and see disappointment in his gaze.

And yet, he has to look at Juno, has to gauge his reaction. He has to hope that Juno will understand.

He looks at Juno and speaks only to him, low and pleading.

“My… associate needs the curemother prime. He is dying, and as you can imagine, it is hard to get healthcare when your legal name is… well, I’m sure Rita told you.”

Juno grunts in acknowledgement.

“I knew your crew had the globe. When I met you at the bar, I already knew who you were, and yes, I was there to try to get onto your ship. If you invited me back, that would be best, but I would be content to get your keys. But my interest in you wasn’t feigned. I told myself I was meeting you for dinner to see if you would invite me to your room, but the truth is that I wanted to see you again. I didn’t know how to reconcile the genuine feelings I was experiencing with the job I was trying to do.”

Juno swallows and shifts his weight.

“And everything you said tonight?”

Peter looks at the floor. “None of it was a lie. I do wish…” He can’t say it.

“You still left.”

“I can’t leave loose ends. I called my associate, and told him the deal was off. That was when I found out he was planning to sell the curemother for a profit afterwards.”

There is silence. He braves another look at Juno. There is something hard and burning in his bright eye, and Peter wishes he knew him a little better, to know where the anger is being directed. Yes, Mag is not the moral man Peter thought he was, but Peter is a liar and now, a disloyal partner.

Juno opens his mouth.

Buddy interrupts. “And what did you think you would do with the curemother, if you weren’t going to sell it?”

“Give it away?” Peter asks. “Find some way to distribute it—I may be a thief, but I won’t profit off of people’s deaths, and I won’t help someone else do it.”

“That’s a pretty sentiment, darling, but you can’t know we’re going to give it away.”

“I know your record,” Peter says. “Not everyone’s, but yours, and Vespa’s. And—and I think I know Juno.”

Vespa cackles again. “You know his dick, apparently.”

Peter opens his mouth to argue, and closes it. He has no way to defend himself.

“How did your associate take the news?” Buddy asks.

“I don’t know,” Peter admits. “I hung up on him.”

“Well, we certainly can’t have him coming after you,” Buddy says. “How long until he drops dead?”

“What.” Juno says flatly, a second before Vespa growls, “Bud, what are you saying?”

“We don’t have time to kill every opportunist war criminal in the galaxy, especially when most of us have taken a vow against killing, but I don’t want one associated with us either. So Pete, how do you suggest we get rid of him?”

“Hang on,” Peter says. His mouth is dry and he feels a bit like Buddy’s mind is moving faster than he can keep up. “What are you going to do with me?”

“You know how to get the curemother prime, don’t you?”

“Yes? Once we got the globe from you, we had a plan.”

“Excellent. Then you can stay.”

“I can—”

“On strict probation. You’ll stay in the brig, you’ll answer all our questions, and you’ll do whatever Juno tells you to.”

“Bud,” Vespa says slowly. “We don’t have a brig.”

Buddy waves a hand airily. “Details, Darling.”

“I do not understand why we are keeping him,” The Big Guy says. “He has done nothing to suggest that he should be trusted.”

“Oh, Juno and I have discussed him extensively. And I had Rita do a little research. I think we’ll get along famously. Isn’t that right, Pete?”

“Yes?” He says again. He’s never met anyone who can talk circles around him like this.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. If you’re very lucky, you’ll come out of this with a glowing reputation and a bright future ahead of you.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Oh,” Buddy smiles, and with her red hair and her red lips, she looks like she has tasted blood. “You do one more thing to hurt Juno, and I’ll have Vespa throw you out the airlock.”

Peter swallows nervously. “I thought you didn’t kill.”

“I don’t,” Buddy says. “But Vespa has made no such promises.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which both Juno and Peter struggle to keep their hands to themselves

Peter’s jurors leave the room, except for Juno. He picks up Peter’s abandoned knife and pockets it, then kneels behind Peter’s chair and begins to untie him.

“Are you going to say anything to me?” Peter asks.

“I already said what I needed to say.” Juno’s voice is sharp. If Peter were smart, he would let Juno brood silently instead of risking that anger being turned on him. “I am sorry,” he says.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Maybe you should have figured that out before you told me you wanted to wake up with me.”

“You said that, not me,” Peter argues.

“You agreed. You implied—never mind.” Juno jerks Peter to standing and shoves him toward the hallway. Peter’s hands are still tied, even now that he separated from the chair.

“Off to the brig?” Peter asks.

Juno grunts and pushes him forward. They stop outside Juno’s bedroom door. He leans forward and waves his key over the lock, and it beeps softly and slides open.

“Oh? Are you going to have your way with me?”

“No.”

“I don’t usually let someone tie me up until the second date, although I suppose this might count...”

“Shut up,” Juno snaps. “We don’t have anywhere else to keep you, so I’ll tie you to the bed.”

Peter walks to the bunk and sits down obediently.

Juno leans over to dig through a drawer set into the wall by his bed. Peter catches a flash of lace, before Juno comes out with a pair of handcuffs. “Do you want your jacket on or off?” He asks.

“I guess that depends on if you’ll be sharing the bed with me,” Peter says, and flirtation slips into his voice. He doesn’t really mean to, but the opportunity is so obvious and he wants to do something to clear the scowl from Juno’s face.

The scowl only deepens. “Nice try, Nureyev.”

“Don’t get delicate now, Juno. You were balls deep in me two hours ago, sharing a bed now seems a reasonable allowance.”

Juno doesn’t answer. Instead, he cuts Peter’s ropes, snaps the handcuffs around one wrist and then around what looks like a towel bar running along the wall above the bed. It forces Peter closer to it, so that his arm is not stretched out. Still, when he lays down, his arm is held at a funny angle, his hand suspended a few inches above the bed.

Juno bends over him, checking the latch on the cuffs. Then he pats down Peter’s chest and hips, and pulls three knives out of their hidden pockets.

“This is quite unnecessary,” Peter says. “I know better than to go anywhere.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll believe it if you’re still here in the morning.”

Peter runs his free hand up Juno’s thigh. “I don’t have much incentive to leave,” he says slowly.

Juno jerks away, climbs off the bed, and sits down in front of the door.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Peter asks.

“I said no,” Juno snarls. “It’s three in the morning and I want to sleep.”

He jerks on the chain that controls the lights, and the room plunges into darkness. Peter lies still and listens to Juno’s frustrated movements.

“Juno?” He says softly.

“What.”

“There’s plenty of room in the bed. I promise to keep my hands to myself.” He is grateful there is no flirtation in his voice. Seduction is easy, an instinct well honed. Sincerity is harder.

Juno mumbles something Peter can’t catch. He waits, eyes open and staring at what he presumes is the ceiling.

“Don’t know if I can help myself around you,” Juno says.

Peter wonders if Juno is more angry at himself, or at Peter. That does explain his surliness.

“I feel the same way,” Peter says. “But... I understand your reluctance.” He is telling the truth, but he also feels like Juno let this go on a little long. Juno was the one who ran after him, who asked him back. Juno wants him, just as much as he wants Juno.

It is a startling thought, but it fills Peter with optimism. Maybe, if he is careful, if he shows Juno enough remorse, if he is helpful enough, Juno will even allow himself to give into those feelings again.

Peter hears Juno moving around in the dark, and then footsteps. A pause, and then the mattress dips.

“Don’t touch me,” Juno says, as he lays down.

There is not really enough space on the bunk for both of them to lie without touching, but he does his best, scooting up beside the wall. Peter can feel Juno’s body heat, they are so close, but he doesn’t surrender to the urge to touch him. Instead, he lies wide awake and listens to Juno’s breathing slow, and then his body relaxes, his back pressing against Peter’s arm.

Peter focuses on keeping his breathing steady, on resisting the urge to hold Juno. He promised.

He doesn’t sleep, despite the late hour. His handcuffed arm is cold, and his hand is a little numb. There are many things in his jacket pockets, and he is lying on something sharp and hard, but he doesn’t want to move in case he wakes Juno.

After what feels like hours, he gives up and digs his lock picks out of his inside pocket and undoes his cuff.

The relief is instantaneous, as warmth rushes back to his hand. He probably would have been fine, lying there until morning, but this is more comfortable.

He turns on his side so his back pressed to Juno’s, and he finally falls asleep. 

* * *

Peter wakes before Juno, but he lies still, cramped and stiff, and waits until Juno stirs to move.

The comms in his pocket vibrates insistently.

“You gonna answer that?” Juno grumbles.

“Am I allowed?”

Juno just grunts.

Peter shifts and find it. He has six missed calls from Mag—somehow he slept through all of them coming in. He scrolls through the text messages.

_“We can talk.”_

_“This is childish.”_

_“If u turn me in, I’ll do the same. Don’t even consider it.”_

_“U owe me that curemother.”_

_“Are u hurt? Plz just tell me ur okay.”_

_“Please, Pete, whatever it is that you need, we can work something out.”_

Peter has whiplash from the tone of the texts, the casual way Mag used his name, the perfect grammar of his last plea.

He feels a pang of remorse. He owes Mag his life, the curemother is the least he could do for him. They can argue about prices later. He could have talked Mag into it.

“Is it your.... associate?” Juno asks.

“Yeah.” Peter’s voice is small.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Peter can’t repress a little shudder. “Absolutely not.”

Juno sighs. “Okay.”

“Are you jealous?”

Juno doesn’t answer that. “What are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know,” Peter says. “I’ll... ignore him as long as possible, I suppose.”

Juno gets out of bed. Peter rolls to face him, his jacket bunching underneath him.

Juno looks very sour. “You undid your handcuffs.”

“They were uncomfortable,” Peter pouts.

Juno rolls his eyes.

“Forgive me? I was very good and stayed where you put me.”

Juno’s sigh is almost a growl. “Are you this good at getting out of ropes?”

“Depends on the ropes.”

“I want to take a shower. Will you be here when I get back?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Peter rolls onto his back and stretches. Juno watches, his eyes roving over Peter’s body, and Peter smiles at him. Juno swallows.

“I, um—“ Juno clears his throat. “Never mind.”

“Tell me, Juno.”

He is rummaging through his drawers and pulling out clean clothes.

“If you’re really worried, you could take me with you.”

Juno gathers his clothes to his chest and looks at Peter. Conflict wars across his face.

“I want to kiss you,” he blurts.

“I want you to kiss me.”

“I can’t.”

“You’ve already done it.”

“You were working against me.”

Peter sits up and meets Juno’s eye. “Juno...” he starts.

“No,” Juno says. “I don’t actually want to hear it.”

Peter stands. “Please, listen to me. I think I’ve earned that much.”

Juno shifts his weight, holds his clothes to his chest, but he nods. “Fine. Go ahead.”

“I understand that you are hurt, and that I will have to earn your trust. I understand that I lied to you, and slept with you under false pretenses, and you have every right to be angry with me. But I took you back to my hotel because I was enchanted by you, and everything I have done since is because of that. I want to get to know you better, and wake up with you, and cook you breakfast. I want you to know me, and trust me—“ Peter swallows. Expressing emotion is easy; he has said things like this many times before, but he has never meant them. The honesty adds a new delicacy to his confession, like if he speaks too harshly the moment will shatter. “I will do whatever it takes,” he promises. “If that means putting these tacky little handcuffs back on, I’ll suffer the indignity. If it means giving you the keys to the curemother, I will sacrifice my glory. If it means kneeling in front of you and worshipping a different way, I will gladly do it.”

Juno chews his lip. It’s enough to fill Peter with a memory of his kiss, a fantasy about those teeth.

“That’s a pretty poetic way to offer to blow me,” Juno says.

“What can I say, you make me feel poetic.”

Juno lets out a sharp breath. “Look, Peter...” he sighs again, and looks away. “When I’m with you, I can’t think straight. I can’t trust myself to be rational, because I—“ he clears his throat like he is choking on whatever honest thing he was going to say. “You make your living lying to people,” he says. “Don’t try to deny it, we saw your whole resume. You’re a con man. And here I am falling for it.”

“You know my name, Juno. I gave it to you, because I wanted you to know me. Me, not Opal Cloisonné or Rex Glass or any of my other personas.”

“Yeah,” Juno says. “That’s exactly what someone who is trying to seduce me would say.”

Peter sighs. “I don’t know how else to convince you.”

“Me neither.”

Peter has very little left to give Juno. He probably knows everything the internet has to say about him, judging by the skills of their hacker. He has seen Peter reduced to begging for his touch. He has chained Peter to his bed, and Peter didn’t run away.

“I suppose you should tie me up,” Peter says. “And here, take my lock picks.” He pulls them out of his pocket and puts them on the bedside table. “You already have most of my knives, but here—“ he pulls a smaller one from a sheath inside his jacket sleeve, that Juno missed in his searching. “I have very flexible shoulders, so you’ll need to tie my elbows together as well as my wrists.”

Juno sighs, his gaze on Peter’s face. There is a furrow between his eyebrows, and Peter wants to kiss it away.

His tongue presses out to wet his lips as he thinks. Lust and also something deeper curls in Peter’s belly.

He waits, and lets Juno think, but the longer they watch each other, the tighter the cord between them pulls, the harder it is for Peter to keep quiet. He is halfway to a heated fantasy about Juno forcing him to kneel and absolving him of his sins with his hands in Peter’s hair and his cock in Peter’s mouth when he finally looks away.

“You said you decided not to rob me. Prove it, and don’t.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“And no more lying to me, alright. We’ll just both be open with each other, from here on out.”

“I would like nothing more.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. Um. I’m going to shower. If you want a change of clothes, help yourself.” He waves vaguely at the drawers set into the wall and hurries out.

Peter itches to snoop, and he slides each drawer open, digging through drawers full of clothes in shades of black, grey, and tan. There are pops of color mixed in—brightly sleeved baseball tees and novelty socks. Juno’s closet is more promising, a magenta dress tucked in besides a dark suit and several bright dress shirts. The kitenge from the night before was a standout piece.

In the underwear drawer Peter finds a single set of lingerie in a warm bronze, the straps set with shining black buckles. Peter wonders who Juno wears it for, the flame of jealousy small but undeniable.

His curiosity gets the better of him and he slides open the drawer that his handcuffs came from. A thrill of adrenaline runs through him at the indiscretion. He should respect Juno’s privacy, but he is a thief, and thieves snoop.

The flash of mauve lace belongs to a slinky teddy that makes Peter’s mouth go dry. When he slides it out of the way, he finds a stash of toys underneath that conjure up a revolving door of images in Peter’s head. He nudges the slippery silk rope aside and reaches for a leather paddle before something stops him.

If he goes through this drawer, he can add new things to the file he keeps in his head. Already, the leather and rope tells him that Juno is kinky, the brightly colored dildo suggesting that Juno likes to be fucked. He can take this knowledge and hint at things, offer Juno exactly what he wants.

He remembers what he said to Juno, just moments earlier.

_I wanted you to know me._

He had meant it, with a painful rawness that he still wasn’t quite ready to examine.

And Juno,

_No more lying._

And isn’t this, pawing through Juno’s things to discover him before Juno is ready, a kind of lying? He can pull out the silk rope, watch tutorials and pretend that bondage is something he enjoys, and not something that terrifies him. He can build a new persona that is exactly what Juno likes. He is very good at it, at seducing, at faking chemistry. He can be in control, guide an evening to be exactly what everyone wants.

Juno, he thinks, will see right through it. He already has, somehow, so focused on making their time together fun, making sure Peter enjoyed himself, and never demanding anything. The sex has already been better than any Peter’s ever had, and he wants to keep it that way.

He wants to see Juno smile at him, he wants to let Juno touch him. He wants to lose control.

He wants to be surprised. 

* * *

When Juno comes back, he is fully dressed, and he is wearing casual clothes, but still Peter eyes the way his jeans hug his thighs and his turtleneck hugs his chest.

Juno returns the look, his gaze lingering on Peter’s waist, and he bites his lip.

Peter has picked out one of Juno’s shirts, a blue and grey baseball tee that is soft from many washings. It droops over Peter’s shoulders and is too wide, and Peter has tucked it into his slacks.

“Fuck,” Juno says softly.

“I’m sorry?” Peter says.

Juno opens his mouth, and then he smiles wryly. “Don’t be. That shirt looks... good on you.”

Peter will admit, at least to himself, that he likes wearing Juno’s clothes. The shirt smells like him, detergent and deodorant and age, and it slides against his skin like a comforting caress, and Juno is still looking at him, hungrily, warily. He’s getting wet just from the heat in Juno’s eye.

His arousal reminds him that he still isn’t wearing underwear, but borrowing Juno’s feels like a line he isn’t quite ready to cross yet.

“Thank you for the loan,” he says, to break the moment. He wants to say something flirtatious, to invite Juno to take it off him, but he is trying so hard to be good.

Juno clears his throat, and he rubs his face like he heard what Peter was thinking. “‘S’fine. Family meeting in fifteen minutes. We should get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing process this chapter was a lot of Peter thinking "Oh my god I have to fuck him" and me thinking "he just did that less than 12 hours ago." 
> 
> I struggled A LOT with this chapter because I felt like I owed it to y'all to write the smut, and they definitely wanted to, but I think that it would be the wrong emotional beat? Anyway writing smut with a plot is HARD and I hoped you liked the tension you get instead.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buddy asks questions. Juno and Peter talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a very cursed Easter egg (: (: (:

Buddy, Vespa, and the Big Guy are in the kitchen when they arrive. Buddy and Vespa sit on the back bench of the breakfast nook, leaned against each other. They straighten up when they see Peter, but their hands stay twined together, and Buddy reaches over with her free hand to trace Vespa’s knuckles.

The Big Guy is at the stove, supervising three pans at once. Somehow, his large form fits well there, as he turns a batch of sausages and then flips three eggs in quick succession. There is an efficiency in every motion that makes him graceful.

“Good morning, Juno,” he says, in his oddly deep voice. “Please pour the coffee before it sits too long.”

Juno pushes the plunger on the French press and then puts it on the table with a handful of mugs. The kettle boils, and Juno reaches over the Big Guy’s arm to take it off the stove and pour it into a small brown teapot. That, too, goes on the table. 

There is a casual intimacy to all of this that makes Peter’s chest seize.

“Sit down, Peter,” Buddy says, and it shouldn’t be a command, but it is.

He perches nervously on the edge of a chair and waits for further orders. Instead, Buddy leans close to Vespa so she can whisper in her ear, and Juno busies himself piling silverware and plates on the table, and the Big Guy stacks all the food on platters and passes it to Juno. Peter is pretty sure the silence would be companionable, if he were gone. Instead, it feels tense, almost performative.

Finally, the last member of their crew arrives. She is still wearing the cat pajamas, and she climbs up on the bench and leans against Buddy’s free side, yawning. Buddy puts a casual arm around her. 

“Mornin’” she mumbles.

The Big Guy sits down at the table and looks at Peter. “You may call me Jet.”

Peter sucks in a breath. “You _are_ the Unnatural Disaster! I thought so—“

“I did not say you could call me that,” he growls, with such venom that Peter realizes everything he has said up to that point has been comparatively jovial.

He flinches. “Okay,” he says. “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Jet says.

Juno fills the awkward silence by piling a plate with food, then passing it to Peter. He makes a second one for himself, and then the rest of the family, except for Buddy, follows suit. Peter waits for Vespa to take the first bite, but then he begins to hastily shovel down the fried eggs and vegetable sausage.

“Shall we get started?” Buddy says, and then, without waiting for a reply, gets started.

“The next step in our quest is the blade. Peter, what do you know about it?”

Peter puts down his fork. He has a feeling this is a test. She’s trying to discover if he’s competent, if he and Mag did their research or simply planned on trailing the Carte Blanche up and down the solar system.

He glances at the teapot, thinks about asking for a cup, but now is not the time to be an inconvenience. He takes a steadying breath and launches into an explanation of his plan.

He speaks for what feels like hours, though it probably isn’t, carefully outlining everything he remembers from the blueprints Mag found, their plans for getting in and out of the facility, the proper way of handling the knife.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the blueprints memorized,” Peter says. “That was my partner’s part of the plan.” As if on cue, his comms vibrates in his pocket again.

“Seems like hanging on to the blueprints was his only part of the plan,” Buddy says, her tone inscrutable.

“I, ah, he has plenty of expertise that comes in handy. I’m merely the set of hands.”

Juno grumbles something inaudible.

“What was what?” Buddy asks.

“It was rude,” Juno says. “Forget I said anything.”

“Very well,” Buddy says. “What you know lines up with what we know, more or less, so either you’re telling us the truth, or we both have a faulty source. Now, are you coming with us?”

“Coming... to get the knife?”

“Well, yes. Think of it as a trial run. If you’re very good, we might bring you along for the whole affair.”

“And if I’m bad?”

“We’ll leave you on whatever planet is mutually convenient, or we’ll send you back to Magpie, if you decide that’s what you want.”

Fear shoots through Peter. “I definitely didn’t tell you that name.”

“Of course you didn’t. You were careful, but your name is traceable, and therefore so is his. Magpie Stolosovich is not nearly as clever as he thinks he is.” She takes a smug sip of coffee. Peter blanches.

“I’d like you to be honest with us, Pete,” she continues, “But knowing the truth is more important than learning it from you. Now, do you have any questions for me?”

Peter has many questions. An ocean of questions, all demanding answers. Where does she get her information? Why is she so interested in him? Did she really know Mag, back when they were young?

If he goes with them, he will have time to ask all of this.

He looks at Juno. Juno seems relaxed, this time, peacefully eating toast and watch Buddy take him apart.

“First,” Peter says, “I would like to know how you found my name, so I can ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Don’t worry, Mistah Nureyev, I took care of it,” Rita chirps. “I downloaded backups of all the records, in case you want to look that them, and then I double encrypted all the locks, and the password is the entire cast list of Venusian Street Racers volume 86: McQueen’s Gambit, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only person who ever watched that movie.”

“I see. That is a relief.” He looks back at Buddy and asks his real question. “Once you do get the curemother, what will you do with it?”

“Ah, yes, I thought we might get there.” Buddy glances at Vespa before she speaks. “I admit we too have selfish motivations. Once upon a time, we both spent time in the Cerberus province and, well, it has taken its toll.”

She sweeps back her carefully arranged hair, revealing the skin underneath. To call it burned would be too kind. It is dead and grey, stretched over bones, held together in places with acrylic stitches. In the middle of the scars sits a cybernetic eye, the iris a furious orange. Buddy blinks, and a chrome eyelid shutters over the robotic eye.

“I trust you understand,” she says, with a note of finality in her voice, and she drops her hair back. Once again, only the unlined half of her face is visible, her eyebrow arched, her lips perfectly red.

Peter does understand. He knows what radiation poisoning does to a person, the pain it causes.

“And after?” He asks. He thinks of all the thieves that have been lost to irradiation and debt and unlucky injuries, in the Cerberus province and beyond. All the people there because they are poor, not because they are evil, or foolish.

“You have been honest with me, so I will be honest with you,” Buddy says. “We don’t know how we will distribute the curemother. The galaxy is vast, and our ship is slow. But we will not keep it for ourselves, and we will not charge for its use.”

“And will you tell people who stole it?” Peter asks.

“I’ll tell them my name.” Buddy smiles. “Vespa and Buddy.... it will be nice to have a reputation in the present tense again.”

“And I—my name—“ it feels too stupid to even ask. “Will I be included?”

“We can keep your involvement hidden. Rita’s managed it so far.”

“Um—yeah, okay.”

Buddy studies him for a minute, red nail tapping against red lip. “I’m not going to give you things you don’t ask for, Pete. I’m your captain, not a mind reader.”

Peter has lived his whole life asking for nothing, because nothing is all he can expect to be given. He swallows, presses his fingers into his thighs. “If I am to have a legacy as a thief, something to put my name to again, this is what I would want it to be.”

Buddy nods. “So you’ll join my crew?”

“Yes,” Peter agrees, and then he looks at Juno. Juno smiles, and under the table a foot brushes against his.

“Glad to hear it,” Buddy says. “We take off tonight. All of you, get everything you need done before then.”

“All of my clothes are still at the motel,” Peter says.

“Bud and I can get them,” Vespa offers.

“That’s not necessary,” Juno says.

“Sure it is.” Vespa grins. “You go, he tries to talk you into staying. I go, flash ‘im a little blade, give him a good dressing down, and he won’t fight me.”

“I should go,” Peter says. “After everything, saying goodbye is the least I can do.”

“We can all go,” Buddy decides. “That way, if he tries any flim flam, you’ll have backup.” 

* * *

It isn’t until Juno has shut them both in his room that Peter feels he can breathe properly again. He sinks onto the bed and gulps for air.

“Is she always so forceful?”

“You get used to it,” Juno says, and sits next to him. “How are you feeling besides that?”

“Rather exhausted,” Peter says. He looks at Juno’s hand, on the bed between them, but doesn’t take it.

“You don’t have to go get your stuff,” Juno says. “We can spend the day hiding in here instead.”

“I can’t wear your clothes forever.”

Juno grins smugly. “Sure you can. I’m certainly not complaining.” His gaze drops to Peter’s lips, but he doesn’t move.

“I don’t understand why you’re all being so nice to me,” Peter blurts. “You have no reason to trust me.”

“Call it a good feeling, if you like,” Juno says. “I know I liked you right away.”

“I was trying to seduce you,” Peter argues.

“I know. If it was just me, I might question my instincts, but Buddy and Jet are both willing to let you stay, and they’ve never done me wrong.”

Peter’s “oh” is more a soft gasp of relief.

“And, well...” Juno puts his hand over Peter’s. “The seduction worked.”

“I don’t know how,” Peter says. “You had me utterly tongue tied.”

Juno laughs. “If that’s you tongue tied, I think you might destroy me when you’re feeling eloquent.”

Peter actually blushes, against his will, and he brings a hand up to cover his face. “I’m not usually like this,” he excuses. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Juno tugs his hand down, so both of his are captured under Juno’s warm brown ones. Juno catches his gaze, and holds it. “Peter, listen to me,” he says seriously. “I ran after you, remember? I knew you were going to rob me, and I still wanted to spend every second I could with you.”

“Oh,” Peter whispers again.

Very slowly, giving Peter plenty of time to pull away, Juno leans in to kiss him.

The kiss is like nothing else. Juno is slow, and cups Peter's face with such tenderness, and his lips are so soft and his breath is so warm and Peter doesn't realize he has stopped breathing until Juno pulls away.

"Oh," Peter gasps. "Oh, please," and he follows Juno's mouth with his own asking for more.

Juno's lips slide against his, and they part, and come back together, and all the while Juno's hands are on him, soft and exploring.

Peter puts his hands against Juno's shoulders and pushes him away.

"Sorry," Juno says. "What's wrong?"

"I just... need a minute."

Juno sits, his hands in his lap, waiting, while Peter tries to steady his breathing. This is all too much vulnerability, too fast, and he isn't sure how to handle it. Will this always be how he feels, kissing Juno Steel? Like the planet has gone off its axis, like there is something deep inside him that is now, always pulled towards him? He wants to touch Juno, kiss Juno, fuck Juno, but he can barely look in Juno's eyes without feeling like all the air has left the room.

"I want--" he doesn't know how to say it. He knows simple wants, hunger and thirst and exhaustion, and he knows long wants, the driving ambition that has kept him from losing his identity completely. But this, to think of kissing Juno every day, to consider that maybe there is something he could ask for, and receive, is like standing on the edge of a precipice.

"Did I move too fast?" Juno asks.

Peter laughs. "It was just a kiss."

"I know, but..." Juno licks his lips, and something deep in Peter's belly throbs with the wanting. "We don't--I don't want you to think you have to kiss me, to stay on this crew. We can set that boundary."

"No!" Peter says. "No, no, I want you. I want everything you're willing to give."

"Okay!" Juno says, and he smiles. "Good. Because I want you to kiss me again, as soon as you're ready."

Peter sucks in air, steadies himself, and pulls Juno's face to his.

It is a hungrier kiss, the careful testing gone, as Peter loses himself entirely in Juno's body. Juno's hands hook under his knees and tug him forward, and suddenly Peter is straddling Juno's lap, Juno’s thighs hot under his, Juno’s face tilted up to meet him. Peter lets out a shocked little laugh, and cups the back of Juno's head in his hands. They kiss again, mouths open, tasting, smiling. Peter can't stop smiling, can't stop kissing Juno, running his hands over the planes of Juno's face, the muscles of his shoulders, the thickness of his arms.

Juno tugs his shirt out of his waistband and slides his hands up, over the small of Peter's back, thumbs tracing the lines of his hips. He moves his mouth to kiss at the sensitive skin under Peter's jaw, and Peter drops his head back and moans, unbidden.

Juno growls and pulls Peter's hips farther forward, so Peter's center is pressed to Juno's cock, and Peter rolls his hips obligingly, gasping at the contact.

"Probably good we're going to get your stuff," Juno breathes against Peter's throat. "I could barely keep my hands off you, the second I saw you in my shirt."

"I like wearing it." Peter rolls his hips again, wetness soaking into his pants, his hands sliding down over Juno's back to dig into the muscles there. "Like to--oh--"

Juno shoves his shirt up, his mouth going to Peter's nipple, tongue teasing it into a hard point. Peter groans and presses up, begging wordlessly for more. Juno braces one hand at the middle of Peter's back holding him steady, and the other slides in between them to undo the button on his slacks and force the zipper down.

"Juno..." Peter warns.

"Want me to stop?"

"We might need to leave at any moment."

"Mmm, you won't take long," Juno says. “I won’t even have to take your clothes off.” Still, he doesn't move his hand, his fingers resting warm against the base of Peter's belly, waiting for permission. He returns his mouth to Peter's chest, though, moving across to the other nipple, slowly, then ghosting his teeth across it.

Peter whines, and presses Juno's hand down farther. Juno keeps his mouth on Peter’s chest, and slides his hand inside Peter’s pants. His fingers tease along Peter’s hole, dipping into the wetness, and then rub against his dick. Peter bucks his hips, breathing hitching up. He grabs hold of Juno’s shoulders to brace himself as he fucks into Juno’s hand, gasping for friction.

Juno grabs his ass and holds him still, then rubs the tip of Peter’s dick between two fingers, deliberately slow.

“Shh,” Juno soothes. “Let me take care of you.”

“Want to fuck your fingers,” Peter groans, trying to move against Juno’s grip.

Juno presses a single finger into Peter, pumping carefully, pressing against him until Peter’s breath catches.

“You like that, hm?”

“More, god, please,” Peter pants. “You feel so good inside me, I need more.”

Juno presses another finger in, his thumb rubbing along Peter’s dick, his other hand guiding Peter’s thrusts, his mouth still on Peter’s chest.

A knock on the door cuts through Peter’s soft moans. He freezes, but Juno keeps his fingers moving. Peter’s thighs tense, he’s on the edge--

“I’m ready when you are,” Buddy says.

Before Peter can respond, Juno yells out, “I’ll be a minute, sorry.” His voice is a little hoarse. Peter wants to say something, but he’s sure his voice will give them away.

“We’ll be in the car,” Buddy replies, and Peter hears her heels clicking away down the hallway.

Peter lifts his hips, but Juno pulls him down. “Not done with you,” he growls, and bends the fingers still inside Peter, pressing against his walls, and then he begins to thrust faster. Peter forgets about everything except Juno’s fingers, Juno’s mouth, he spreads his legs a little farther, lets Juno go a little deeper—

“Go on,” Juno says, his mouth hot on Peter’s collarbone. “Want to hear you scream.”

Peter does scream, a gasping, desperate yell as his thighs tense and shake and he holds onto Juno and his vision swims. Juno pumps a few more times into him, draws the moment out, until Peter pulls away.

Juno watches him, eye half lidded and satisfied, and as Peter does up his pants, Juno puts his two fingers in his mouth and sucks them off, tongue peeking out as he gets every last bit of Peter’s juices.

Peter’s gaze drops to the obvious bulge in Juno’s pants and he starts forward. “I can take care of that for you.”

“Unfortunately, if we wait any longer, Buddy will yell at us.” There is a teasing note in his voice, like he is challenging Peter to throw caution to the winds, or like he would really enjoy Buddy yelling at him.

Peter does hesitate, but he’s too worried about Buddy’s approval to listen to the want in him. “Mm, that is a shame. Maybe I can make it up to you later?”

Juno’s smile widens. “I think I have something in mind.” He stands slowly, then goes to dig through one of his drawers. “You need anything before we go?” he asks. He pulls out a gun holster and pulls it on, buckling it into place. It crosses his chest and frames his pecs, and Peter watches his strong hands adjust the buckles and slot his blaster into place before he answers.

“I would like to know where my knife is.”

“I think Vespa took it last night. You can ask her.”

Peter would rather not, but he nods. “How’s my hair?”

Juno smiles indulgently and comes to stand in front of Peter. He holds Peter’s chin gently and combs his fingers through Peter’s hair, smoothing stray locks into place. “Well, your gel is certainly doing its job,” he says, and steps back. “You look hot when you’ve just been fucked,” he says, and grins.

Peter chokes on the compliment and presses his hands to his hot cheeks. “That’s not fair,” he says.

“Why not? It’s true.”

“You’re really just complimenting yourself for debauching me.”

Juno takes Peter’s hands so he can’t hide his face. “Yeah, okay, it’s a little rush to make someone as beautiful as you are come, but mostly because I can’t believe I get to touch you.”

“Juno…” Peter struggles to articulate all the feelings welling up inside of him without making it sound like he’s reading pickup lines, and finally settles on petulance. “I can’t believe you’re even hot when you’re smug.”

“It’s a good thing, too, my main personality traits are smug and annoying.”

“And clever,” Peter says, leaning closer to kiss him. “And—”

Juno’s steps back and checks him comms. “Oops,” he says. “Hold that compliment, we’re late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Peter, he has a script for how to seduce someone and it only works when he's not flustered. 
> 
> Also smug hot Juno is my favorite Juno. 
> 
> S/O to Bri, for headcanoning Mag's name as "Magpie" which is very good and I have shamelessly stolen that idea


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs for emotional manipulation and gaslighting in line with Mag's standard practices

Buddy and Vespa sit in the front seat of a long green car with an open top, idling at the peak of the ship's ramp. Peter stops in his tracks.

"You have the Ruby7?"

Juno shrugs. "Yeah. Big Guy brought it with him when he joined the crew."

"I heard it had been lost."

"Merely put into a private collection, darling," Buddy says. She is wearing large dark glasses, and her hair is tied down with a polka dotted scarf. "Please get in the car and do your salivating while we're driving."

Juno gets in the back seat, and, after a moment of shocked awe, Peter follows.

"Just us today?" Juno asks as Buddy drives off the ship.

"Jet wanted to ensure that the engine is in perfect condition, and Rita offered to keep him company."

Peter wonders if the offer was well received. Jet Sikuliaq doesn't seem the type to enjoy chatty company. He runs his hand over the inside of the door frame, fingering the buttons carefully without pushing any of them down. He wonders what he would have to do to get to drive her. He would trade a lot for it.

"You'll have to give me directions," Buddy says. "Or the name of the motel."

Peter startles from his daze and gives her the name of Mag's motel.

"Hear that, Ruby?" Buddy says kindly, and the car chirps happily and makes a sharp right turn.

Peter pulls out his comms, and taps out a message to Mag.

_I'm coming by to talk._

Mag's reply is quick. _You already made it clear where your loyalties are._

Peter swallows a lump in his throat. He can't argue in good faith, when he knows that it would all be a lie. He is so tired of lies.

Buddy says something to Vespa, but her voice is carried away by the wind before it reaches Peter. He sits in a bubble of his own quiet dread until they pull up in front of the long, low motel building and he has to shake himself awake. As they cross the parking lot, Juno reaches out and takes his hand.

He is so anxious that he doesn't realize until he is about to knock on the door that he and Juno are alone.

"Aren't they coming?" he asks.

"They figured it's better not to make him feel ganged up on," Juno says. "They'll be waiting in case anything goes wrong."

Peter's stomach churns. "Nothing will go wrong," he reassures himself. "The worst he'll do is yell at me."

Peter knocks, and waits as he listened to Mag moving around inside the room. Perhaps Mag has already left, given up on him. Maybe the person moving around inside is not even Mag.

The door opens, and Peter's momentary fears and hopes are dashed.

"So you did decide to come," Mag says. “And you brought a friend.”

"Can we come in?"

Mag looks at Juno, and his lip curls. "I'm not in the mood to play protective father. Don't feel the need to meet the new boyfriend."

"That's fine," Juno says, and his voice is friendly. "Parents tend to hate me, so I'm happy to skip the small talk. We're here for Peter's stuff." He pushes past Mag, and Mag looks too startled to stop him.

The room is packed and ready to vacate. Peter's suitcase is closed and left at the foot of his bed, just as he left it. Mag's suitcase sits by the door. The only proof they have lived in this room for the last two weeks are the blueprints spread across the desk.

Peter hesitates. He needs to say something. How can he explain that this new crew is a better opportunity for him, that he feels hopeful around them, that he might finally do something worth putting his name to?

"There's still room on the flight out, Pete," Mag says.

Peter wants go with him. He knows what it will be like, traveling with Mag. He knows his place.

"You wanted to hurt people," Peter says. "You lied to me."

"I never lied, kid. You never asked."

"I didn't think I would need to." Peter hunches his shoulders. "This isn't who I thought we were. This isn't who my father was."

Mag scoffs. "Your father is long dead. The living have to look out for themselves."

"And each other. You taught me that."

"I am looking out for you. I know what's best for us."

"I don't--I don't want your future anymore, Mag."

He sighs deeply and crosses his arms. "So you're really going to run off, after one financial disagreement? After everything I've done for you? I didn't expect this from you, Pete."

Juno exhales sharply, and Peter looks at him. He is standing by the window, fiddling with the curtain pull and staring at the tacky brocade pattern, pointedly not looking at either of them.

"It wasn't--it isn't--"

"At least be honest with me. At least tell me you're running off because you'd rather be with a lady you barely know, than stay with the man who raised you."

“What you're planning is wrong,” Peter deflects.

“You lost the moral high ground a long time ago,” Mag says. “Don’t act like you’re better than me. Everything I did, we did together.”

“That’s not—I’m drawing a line I won’t cross.”

“Will you cross it for Juno?”

Peter tugs at a hang nail. “Mag, can we please argue about the curemother? That’s the important thing here.”

“You never would have questioned me if you hadn’t gotten a crush. What’s going to happen when he finds out who you really are?”

“I know.” Juno speaks calmly, his hands in his pockets. His stance pulls his jacket open, making the strap of his shoulder holster very obvious. “I know who he is, and I know about Brahma.”

Mag is, for a moment, stunned into silence.

Juno continues, “I’m not really interested in digging through your past. I can learn everything I need to by watching the way you’re treating him right now.”

“Do you know he was lying to you when you first met?”

“Yeah, man, we figured it all out. You sent him to seduce me because you can’t do your own research, and then when he set a boundary, you guilt tripped him about it.”

“Don’t you get righteous on me,” Mag sneers. “The boy can’t think for himself, and I know him better than anyone. I know what he needs.”

“He’s a grown man,” Juno says, and his voice goes even softer. “And his moral compass works just fine, from my vantage point.”

Mag spreads his hands wide in exasperation, and he looks from Juno to Peter. “So you think you found someone who’s as naïve and idealistic as you. What are you going to do when you run out of fairy tale?”

“It’s not a fairy tale,” Peter says, but he is doubtful. Mag is right; Juno is too good to be true.

Mag scoffs. “Pull yourself together. You’re better than this, Pete. You’re better than him. So you think it’s nice to have someone buy you dinner. What will you do when you find out he’s just in it for a quick buck, too? What will you do when he leaves you?”

Peter hunches in on himself. He can’t ask Juno to make any promises for him. He won’t tie Juno down that way. Relationships end. They always do. And Mag—Mag has always been there for him.

“It seems to me,” Juno says, and there is still that edge in his voice, that should be polite but instead is poisonous, “that Peter came here because you want to make your quick buck at the expense of sick people. Now, I’m not interested in making him choose between me and his father, because that seems unfair, and I can’t promise that we’ll ride off into the sunset together. But I can promise not to lie to him about where our money comes from, and that seems like a start.”

This is about the curemother. Juno’s words bring him back to himself, his grief.

The Carte Blanche might abandon him after this mission. Juno might tire of him. Juno will probably tire of him. Everyone in his life has, except Mag.

But he can’t help Mag become rich on the back of sick people, and Mag will not change his plans. Juno is right, and righteous. He may not get to have Juno for half so long as he wants, but he will still follow him, as long as he can.

Peter makes one last attempt. “Mag, please. Give up on your plans for the curemother. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

Mag’s eyes are flat and cold. “You’re the one picking another crew over me,” he says. “You’re the one who made this choice. Remember that, Peter.”

“I don’t want to choose,” Peter says. “I don’t have to work with you to still—”

“If you’re working against me for the curemother, then I can’t trust you anymore. That’s all there is to it.”

Juno makes a long, low whistling noise through his teeth. “You’re a real piece of work,” he says, and his voice has heated now. He steps towards Mag. “You’re really going to choose the possibility of money over the man you raised?”

“He could have followed my lead,” Mag says. Not for the first time, Peter wishes he would yell. His calm disappointment always leaves a sickness in Peter’s gut. “He chose you. Congratulations, Juno Steel.” 

* * *

Peter is quiet on the ride back to the ship. Summoning the energy for small talk seems like too much energy. Buddy makes a few efforts at prying, but Juno cuts her off with a “we’ll debrief tomorrow,” and she lets it drop.

When they get out of the car, Juno puts a hand under Peter’s elbow and guides him back to Juno’s room. It is ridiculous and overly protective, but Peter is still charmed. He leans into Juno’s warmth until they are alone, and Juno lets go.

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Fine,” Peter deflects. “It sounds like we have work to do. When is take off?”

“Probably any minute now,” Juno says. “Jet’s in charge of it.”

“I’m sure I can help. There must be luggage to stow, or signals to send as we leave orbit—“

“Babe, we’re fine. Jet and Buddy have it handled.”

Peter freezes. The pet name came so easily from Juno’s mouth that he seems to have not even noticed it.

Juno notices his flinch, though. His thick brows furrow in concern. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“You called me babe,” Peter blurts.

“Oh. Do you mind?”

He realizes that he doesn’t, at all. It makes his skin tingle a little with the casual intimacy. “Not when it’s you,” he says, too honest. It is a silly thing to take comfort in, now, but he does. Juno still looks at him with kindness, cares for him with pet names.

“Okay,” Juno says. “We should have a few hours before dinner. Do you want to talk?”

“Why don’t we take a nap?” Peter offers brightly.

Juno raises an eyebrow.

“Juno, you flirt,” Peter teases, though that probably isn’t what the raised eyebrow is saying. “I’m sure I could summon the energy for that, if you wanted.”

“How about an actual nap,” Juno says dryly. “I can’t imagine you slept any more than I did last night.”

Peter is relieved. He is not sure he will ever stop wanting Juno, but he is exhausted, and emotionally drained. He nods and sits on the bed to take his shoes off.

Juno drops his eye patch on the bedside table, then strips down to just his underwear and lays down on the inside of the bunk. Peter opens his suitcase and finds clean briefs and soft pajama pants. He keeps Juno’s shirt on.

“Are those silk?” Juno asks, and Peter can’t name the expression in his voice.

“What’s wrong with that?” Peter asks.

“Nothing. You’re just.... fancy.”

Peter takes his glasses off and places them next to Juno’s eyepatch, then climbs into bed. Juno pulls the blanket up around them. “I promise not to replace all your clothes with designer ones,” he says.

“Me? Designer clothes? Bah.” Juno rubs a hand up Peter’s back, fingers tracing his spine. It tickles. They are quiet for a while, and Juno’s gaze is fixed somewhere on the far wall.

Peter wants to ask what is wrong, but he also doesn’t know if Juno will welcome the question, and he doesn’t want the question turned back on himself.

“We don’t make much money here,” Juno says. “Food money, yes. Fancy clothes, not so much.”

Does that worry Juno? Does he look at Peter’s clothes and think he is being judged?

“I’ve been poor enough to not have food money,” Peter says bluntly. “And I steal my clothes.”

Juno huffs a soft laugh. “That solves one problem, then.”

“Are there more?”

“Dunno,” Juno says, and lapses back into silence.

Peter’s eyes drift shut, and he is nearly asleep when Juno says, “we have a room we can make yours. We’ll have to buy a bed at the next port though; we took the bunk out so we could store more stuff there.”

Peter’s heart sinks. “Oh. Okay.”

Juno’s gaze drops to his, and he seems to intuit Peter’s sudden worry.

“So you have a place to put your things,” he hastens. “You saw how small my closet is. And this bed doesn’t exactly fit two.”

Peter hums. “It fits two right now.”

“I sleep like a koala. You’ll get sick of it eventually.”

Peter has always woken up cold. The idea of sleeping next to someone who holds him, who warms him, is a fantasy he can barely believe is possible. Still, he tries to remind himself that Juno might need space occasionally.

“Maybe....” he offers, “maybe when we stop at the next port, I can buy a double bed, big enough for both of us.”

“You better,” Juno says, and slides his hand down Peter’s back to pull them a little closer together. Peter presses a hand to Juno’s chest. When they are entirely still, he can just barely feel Juno’s heartbeat through his palm.

“Hey babe,” Juno says.

“Yes?”

“I know you don’t want to talk about him right now, but.... I know what it’s like, to have a parent betray you. When you’re ready, I’ll listen.”

Peter trembles at the words. To open his mouth and let the pain spill out is something he can’t afford to do, not for a long time. But when Juno promises, he believes him.

“I know you will,” Peter says. “When I have the words, I‘ll say them.”

Juno’s hands resume their slow journey over Peter’s skin, and Peter keeps his face pressed to Juno’s neck and breathes in his scent. He presses his palms flat against Juno’s chest, like he can pull the heat of Juno’s skin into himself and soothe his shaking that way, and then, at some point, he finally falls asleep. 

He wakes when the ship rumbles to life, but Juno wraps an arm around him and mumbles, “Nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Plot and trauma rambling ahead, skip if you don't want to see the inner workings of the clock) 
> 
> I made some pretty canon divergent choices here. Trying to work out how the confrontation with Mag might go was a challenge, because Angel of Brahma was heart wrenching and traumatizing and not at all the tone of this story, but I had to do something with him. 
> 
> One of the hardest things I've had to learn, as the child of a narcissistic parent, is that sometimes distancing ourselves is all we can do. There is nothing we can say, or do, that will fix the relationship. So we stay distant, and casual. In real life, we rarely get a clean break. 
> 
> Peter's getting one, because Mag is a vindictive man who would rather lose Peter than acknowledge that he has grown into a full person. I see Mag as someone who likes to have people dependent on him, because it makes him feel important. He is high minded and incapable of hearing criticism. What happened in Brahma is an extreme version of that egotism, but that sort of conflict didn't fit the scope of the story I am telling. So instead we get this--smaller, and pettier, and more personal, but still a story of two men whose moral paths no longer align. 
> 
> PS. If any of this chapter resonated with you on a personal level, you have my sympathy and my shoulder to cry on. I promise it gets easier with time. 
> 
> WHEW okay that was heavy. Sorry everyone, and thank you for reading this far. We'll get back to the good stuff next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A debriefing, and a hint at the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when you're writing something, you need to spit blood on the ground while maintaining eye contact in the hopes of asserting dominance. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter nearly killed me. I hope it was worth it. 
> 
> Be sure to check the end notes :)

The next time Peter wakes, Juno’s limbs are tangled with his, one thigh between his legs. Peter shifts his hips, and the friction of his dick sliding against Juno’s skin sends electricity through him. He clenches his walls and pulls away.

Juno’s hand is fisted in Peter’s shirt, so he can’t go far. He can’t complain. He is so warm, and the arousal that sits low in his belly is simply a presence that makes him a little more aware of Juno’s scent, and the press of his hands. Peter is in no hurry for release.

They are face to face, and Peter is close enough that he can still pick out the details of Juno’s face, even with his glasses off. Juno’s lashes are long and curled, and they flutter over his good eye as it moves in his sleep. The scar on his nose is easily the most noticeable feature, but there are other, subtler scars. One of his eyebrows has a little slit, and there is a fresher scar from his lower lip to the side of his chin. The skin across one cheekbone puckers, as if he has been punched by sharp knuckles, and there is a laser burn on his visible shoulder.

Peter traces over Juno’s cheekbone, his square jaw, the beginnings of stubble. When Peter slides his finger along Juno’s lower lip, he sighs, and his hot breath tickles across Peter’s hand. Peter pulls his hand away before Juno’s eyes open.

“Hey,” Juno rasps.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Nah,” Juno says, but he buries his face in Peter’s shoulder and pulls them back together. Peter traces his fingers over the muscles in Juno’s broad back, over the dimples between his hips, and rests his hand just at the waistband of his underwear. Juno huffs, shifts, and slides his thigh between Peter’s legs again.

Peter responds without thinking, rolling his hips to grind against Juno.

Juno grabs his ass and pulls him closer, rubbing the head of Peter’s cock against his thigh. Peter tries to get enough leverage to thrust properly, but it is a clumsy attempt. He was not prepared for this, but his body is already seeking out Juno, trying to cling to him, and he braces his hands against Juno’s back.

Juno’s grip loosens. “Sorry,” he says, his voice still rough with sleep. “It’s probably almost dinner time.”

“For some reason, I don’t care.”

Juno exhales, and his hips twitch, their bodies moving together. “We should, uh, maybe go.”

“I’m not hungry. Are you?”

“I mean,” Juno starts, and then he rolls onto his back. Peter lets him go, but he feels the cold air rush in between them like a rejection.

“You had a rough day,” Juno says. “I don’t want to get too handsy if you aren’t up for it yet. All of that is—” He exhales sharply. “You know, kind of a mood killer.”

Peter props himself up on one elbow so he can look at Juno’s face. “I would rather you distracted me,” he says. “Much more pleasant than wallowing.”

Juno looks at him sideways, his eye calculating. He is probably trying to determine if Peter is lying, and he knows that Juno can look right through him. It’s a good thing Peter isn’t lying. He wants Juno, and he wants to be reassured that he is loved, or worthy of it.

Juno blinks, and looks back at the ceiling. He worries his lower lip between his teeth.

Peter has a flash of insight. “Juno,” he says slowly. He reaches out to touch the back of Juno’s hand, and Juno turns back to meet his gaze.

“Do you want this?” Maybe all of Juno’s reassurances, his check ins, are a way to seek a way out without disappointing Peter. Maybe he is tired, and still hurt, and pushing himself. “If you’re angry, or if Mag brought up too many memories… I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself to please me.”

Juno laughs, a small self-deprecating huff, and looks away. He speaks to the wall, his voice thick. “I don’t want to make this about me. I just need to know, that I’m not pushing too much, asking too much of you.”

“I was the one asking you for more.”

“I know. But I—I can’t trust myself around you. When I touch you, it’s like all the sense flees my head, and all I can think about is how to make sure you never stop. When you’re in the room, I’m like a plant in the dark, needing your light. I’m terrified you’ll see half of how much I want you, and you’ll run away.”

“Oh, Juno…” Peter says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Forget it,” Juno mumbles.

“No,” Peter says. “Juno, look at me.”

Juno turns, and Peter holds his face, to make sure that he is absorbing every word. “When I’m with you, I don’t care about ambition, or money, or excitement. I only care that you’ll be next to me, whatever adventure is next. You make me feel like there’s a future out there, for the both of us. You’re all I want.”

Juno makes an odd choking noise, and buries his face in Peter’s chest. His hands dig into Peter’s skin, and his breath shakes.

“I can’t be everything for you,” Juno says, his voice muffled by Peter’s shirt. “I’ll disappoint you, eventually.”

The enormity of what they are embarking on begins to sink in, and he is grateful for Juno’s tight grip, because otherwise he might shake apart. Juno is, for the moment, all he has in the world, and he clings to him even while he knows that Juno is right. This desire, pulling them into intoxicating orbit around each other, is not the same thing as building a life together.

“You won’t,” Peter says, and means it. “I know it won’t all be amazing sex and dramatic declarations, but I want to know everything about you. Where you got your scars and how you like your eggs and what trashy TV you watch when you’re stressed, and I want to wake up next to you and watch you brush your teeth and I want to kiss you when you’re grumpy. I—” his voice breaks. “I’ve never been able to love all of someone before. I want to try with you.”

Juno’s muscles tense under Peter’s hands. “I want to say it back,” he whispers. “It feels right to say it. But this has all happened so fast.”

Peter would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, but as sure as he is of his feelings, he understands Juno’s hesitation.

“I’m falling,” Juno says hesitantly. “Is that enough?”

“It’s more than enough,” Peter reassures him. It’s more than he ever thought he would be worthy of.

Peter aches to kiss him, and when Juno doesn’t move, Peter shifts and tilts Juno’s face up to meet his. The kiss is long, and slow, mouths pressing together and coming apart and back together, Peter’s hands on Juno’s bare skin, exploring. Juno’s hands are under his shirt, playing up his ribs, and he moves to kiss Peter’s jaw, then nudges Peter’s thighs apart with his knee.

“What do you want tonight?” Juno asks, breath skimming over Peter’s cheek.

“I want… everything.”

“Mm, alright. What do you want to do first?”

It would be nice, just to ask Juno to take care of him. But that is not a reassurance that Peter needs, and he wants to hear Juno beg for him, tell him that Juno wants him. He kisses Juno for a long, languid moment before he answers.

“Can I take the lead?”

Juno’s breath hitches. “I’m all yours.”

Peter’s stomach tightens just at Juno’s words, exactly what he needs, and the fire in his veins heats. He pushes Juno so he is on his back, then mounts his bare thigh to grind against it while he thinks. He takes his shirt off, and then reaches over to the bedside table for his glasses. Juno comes back into focus, watching him like it is his first time seeing Peter, mouth parted as he gasps, hands on Peter’s hips. Peter groans and grinds down harder, watches Juno’s cock twitch and harden in his briefs.

“Fuck,” Juno breathes.

Juno licks his lips, and swallows, and Peter leans down and kisses him. When he takes Juno’s lip between his teeth, gently tugging, Juno moans.

“You like that?”

“Yeah,” Juno says. “More, god, please.”

Peter sucks at the skin of his throat, adds teeth there too, and Juno arches up, his hips pressing against Peter’s cock, and whines. Peter rolls his hips, and Juno holds him down, forcing the friction. Peter digs his nails into Juno’s chest and watches the way Juno’s throat convulses.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Peter breathes. “And you’re mine. You’re going to be so good for me.”

“Yeah,” Juno agrees hoarsely.

Peter shifts so he can palm Juno’s cock through his briefs, and traces his nail across the ridge of the head. As light as the touch is, Juno still inhales at it.

“What should I do to you?” Peter asks, but he knows. Juno may coax orgasms from him like he’s going for a high score, but Peter intends to leave Juno breathless and speechless, tease the night out for hours.

“Anything you want,” Juno says. “I’m yours.”

“Come on, sweetheart. Give me something.” Peter slides his fingers up Juno’s cock, still rubbing, teasing, and Juno presses up into the touch.

“Want—want to watch you come apart above me,” Juno says. “Want you to use my body.”

“I think I can manage that,” Peter purrs. He pushes Juno’s underwear out of the way and begins to stroke in earnest, until his cock is slick with precome and he is whimpering under Peter, head thrown back as he gasps for breath.

“I want to touch every inch of you,” Peter breathes. “I love your muscles, and your scars, and the shape of your bottom lip—” he leans forward and kisses Juno again, pinning his cock between them. Peter is caught up in the heady physicality of Juno, the mass of him, the thick cords of muscle between Peter’s thighs, and he ruts against Juno, moans into his mouth, presses one palm flat against Juno’s chest to feel the muscles there shift.

Juno’s breath catches. “Peter, I’m—I’ll—”

Peter doesn’t stop, just lifts up enough that he can watch Juno’s face as he continues to touch him.

“Do you want to come, baby?”

Juno shakes his head. “Want—more—”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Peter croons. “I’m just returning the favor from earlier, and then we can start the real fun.”

He slides down the bed so he can put his mouth on Juno’s cock as well, dragging his tongue along the base of Juno’s foreskin, and he presses Juno’s thigh down with one hand while he continues to stroke with the other.

Juno groans, and his thighs tremble under Peter’s hands, and he comes all over his belly. Peter watches his heaving chest, the way his hands flex and grasp at something he can’t reach, and his dick aches. He slides his fingers inside his underwear and strokes himself, until Juno looks down and catches his eye.

“Come here,” he says.

“I thought I was in charge tonight,” Peter says.

“Well, at least give me a better view.”

Instead, Peter uses Juno’s underwear to wipe his stomach clean, then drags his mouth along the trail of hair between Juno’s cock and his belly button, up across the bottom of his rib cage, then flicks his tongue across a dark nipple. Juno sighs happily and winds his fingers into Peter’s hair. Peter takes his other hand and twines their palms together while he bites at Juno’s tit.

“Oh, fuck,” Juno gasps.

“Too much?”

“Not enough.”

Peter chuckles, and sinks his teeth into the skin, and Juno whines, a high pitched keening noise. Peter gives Juno’s other nipple the same treatment, and Juno responds by curling the hand in Peter’s hair into a fist, so every time he gasps he tugs on Peter’s hair.

Peter sits back and admires the reddened teeth marks across Juno’s chest, and Juno reaches after him.

“What now?” Peter asks.

“I want to kiss you,” Juno says, so plaintively that Peter can’t resist doing as he asks. Juno’s mouth is open before Peter’s lips meet his, and he is desperate and needy, grabbing at Peter. There are a hundred things Peter wants to do to him, but the kiss sweeps everything away for a moment.

Then he shifts, and just the slight change in friction reminds him that he is achingly hard and so wet he has soaked through his briefs, and he, too, wants release.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he promises Juno, their lips still nearly touching. “Until you’re hard enough for me to ride you. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” Juno breathes. “I want you inside me.”

“How long can you last?” Peter asks. “Because I can go all night.”

Juno huffs. “That’s not fair,” he says. “You’ll always be hard.”

“Mm, exactly,” Peter hums, and he teases his fingers along Juno’s collarbone. “I can fuck you until I come, again and again, until you’re begging me to stop, but I’ll be able to keep going as long as I want, until I’m finally satisfied, and it will be you who finally satisfies me.”

Juno only whimpers.

“How does that sound, sweetheart?” His voice feels like it is coming from far away, too confident, a hint of a persona, but from the way Juno’s lips part, glistening, and the way his eyes go dark with hunger, Peter doesn’t think he minds. This persona is not a lie, it is only Peter begging for the praise he always wants, and tonight he is going to get it.

Juno croaks, swallows, tries again. “Yes, I want to please you.” His pupil is so wide the blue is barely visible, and there is glassiness to his gaze that tells Peter he is moments from surrendering entirely.

Peter kisses him, hands roving everywhere. “That’s what I want to hear, Juno. You’re such a good girl for me. Now, should I tie you up?”

Juno blinks slowly, frowns a little as he tries to focus. Juno blinks slowly, considering. “Not tonight,” he says. “I want to be able to touch you.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” Peter croons, and kisses Juno one last time before he gets up. He drops his pajamas to the floor and crosses the small room to his suitcase.

He didn’t go all the way to Mag’s for nothing, and he pulls out his harness and pastel blue strap, and looks to Juno for approval. Juno swallows and licks his lips, and Peter smiles. Already he can imagine himself inside Juno, the way Juno will arch into his touch, the way Juno will surrender for him.

“Go on and prepare yourself for me,” Peter says.

Juno rolls over and grabs his lube off the bedside table. Peter watches as he slicks his fingers and presses one inside him, as his shoulders drop when he adjusts to the stretch.

Peter wraps his harness around his thighs and begins to do up the buckles, his gaze still mostly on Juno. He presses a second finger inside himself, and he whimpers as he rides his fingers. Peter’s walls throb at the sight, and the base of his strap bumps against his cock, and he strokes himself to feel the press again.

Juno turns and meets his gaze, his fingers still inside him.

Peter adjusts his last buckle. “That’s good, baby,” Peter croons. “I want you ready to get fucked as soon as I am.”

“I need you inside me,” Juno pants. “This isn’t enough.”

“Patience, Juno.” Peter walks back to him. “I want you to suck my cock first.”

“Oh,” Juno gasps, and pulls out with a little groan.

“Do you want to?”

Juno nods.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I want to taste you,” Juno says quickly, the words tumbling over each other. “I want you to fuck my mouth until I choke on your cock.”

Peter smiles, and even he can feel the possessive edge in it as his teeth bite into his lower lip. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” he purrs. “You know just how to please me.”

Juno pulls himself up, and props himself against the pillows. Peter crosses back to him and straddles his lap. He leans in to Juno and kisses him until they are both gasping. His strap presses into Juno’s belly and back against Peter’s cock, and he resists the urge to press harder, losing himself in the kiss instead. When he pulls back, Juno looks up at him, and there is a kind of surrender in his face that sends a wild thrill through Peter.

Juno kisses across the line of Peter’s scars and then at the soft spot under his sternum. He runs his tongue over one of Peter’s nipples, and Peter moans softly. When Juno slides his fingers between Peter’s legs, Peter grabs his wrist.

“I want to make you feel good,” Juno protests, and even though Peter asked for affirmations like this, it still feels like a gift.

“Oh, you will.” He lifts up on his knees, so his strap brushes Juno’s cheek. His head nearly brushes the ceiling, but he can brace himself on the wall over Juno’s head.

Juno runs his hands up Peter’s legs and looks up at him, a question in his eyes.

Peter’s breath catches at the sight of Juno, below him, lips parted, skin dark and flushed and glowing in the lamplight.

He tries to think of something to say, but words fail him. Instead, he cups Juno’s jaw in his hand and slides into Juno’s mouth. Juno moans, and begins to caress Peter’s strap with lips and tongue, flicking his gaze up to Peter’s, asking for approval.

“Fuck,” Peter breathes. “You’re so beautiful.”

This view of Juno so desperate to please him brings him to the edge quickly, his belly tight and his thighs shaking. Every stroke of Juno’s hands bumps the base against his other dick, teasing him closer without giving him enough friction to tip him over, and he spreads his knees, both wanting more and never wanting this to end.

“You ready for more?” He asks, and Juno moans in answer, then drags his tongue over the tip of Peter’s cock, tracing the ridge.

Peter braces his hand on the wall over Juno’s head and thrusts into his mouth, all the way to the base. Juno whimpers and takes it as Peter thrusts again, rocking against the pressure. Juno’s eyes flutter shut as he adjusts to the new tempo, and Peter can fill in all the missing sensations, Juno’s mouth on him, his tongue wrapped around Peter’s cock, the pressure as Juno swallows.

“You’re so good to me,” Peter groans. “Oh, Juno—”

Juno slides his fingers along Peter’s entrance, and this time, Peter lets him. He lets out a harsh, wordless cry at the added sensation, and thrusts his hips down and forward, onto Juno’s fingers, filling Juno’s mouth. He lets go, his hips twitching into Juno’s touch, and Juno’s hands are everywhere, stroking the inside of his thighs, rubbing his dick, pressing inside of him. Still his mouth is moving, taking Peter’s strap, groaning in pleasure.

Peter wants to touch him, but he is worried if he moves either of his arms he will lose his balance, his thighs shake and his hips are moving without thought, picking up speed. He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a rough moan. Juno looks up and meets his eyes, and Peter cries out with no thought of who might hear him, orgasm shocking even him.

He barely stops himself from collapsing onto Juno, but Juno’s strong hands grab his hips and guide him down so he is straddling Juno. Peter wraps his arms around Juno’s shoulders and presses his cheek to Juno’s.

“You liked that?” Juno asks.

Instead of answering, Peter turns and kisses him, and he smiles against Juno’s lips. When he pulls away, he giggles, though he isn’t sure why.

“You have no idea,” he says. “That was… spectacular.”

Juno smiles, and kisses him softy. “The feeling is mutual.”

They kiss until Peter feels in control of his limbs again, and then he pulls away, tugging on Juno’s lower lip as he does so. “I think I promised to fuck you,” he purrs.

Juno gasps, and his hands tighten against Peter.

“Are you ready?”

Juno nods.

Peter moves away, so Juno can lie down. He expects Juno to roll over, but he just slides down the bed and spreads his legs, eyes fixed on Peter. Peter positions himself between Juno’s knees and slicks his fingers and strap with lube methodically.

Juno strokes his cock languidly, eyes on Peter. Peter slides his hands up Juno’s thighs, bends one knee up, and presses forward. He runs his fingers over the curves of Juno’s ass, fondles him, adds his mouth to Juno’s fingers on his cock, delights in Juno’s desperate little whimpers.

When Juno is as hard as Peter can make him, he pulls back and lines himself up.

He hesitates, tip of his strap pressed against Juno’s entrance, and, for a moment, a feeling of unreality settles over him. This feels like too much, to have Juno under him, trusting him, after everything Juno has learned about him.

Peter trusts him too.

“Babe?” Juno asks.

Peter shakes his head to clear it. “I can’t believe I get to do this.”

“What, stick your cock in my ass?”

It breaks the moment that Peter has been building in his head, and he is mostly grateful. He would rather be here, with Juno, than wrapped up in whatever moment of introspection he is tempted towards.

He thrusts into Juno in one quick motion, and Juno groans and arches his back, the line of his neck stretched out as he gasps.

“Fuck,” he pants. “Yes, god, that feels—” He breaks off with a whine.

Peter pulls out, thrusts in deeper. “Don’t stop talking,” he urges Juno.

“Fuck,” Juno repeats. “Been waiting for this.”

Peter sets a rhythm just a little slower than he thinks Juno wants, working up to speed. Juno likes to be fucked, if the noises he makes are any indication. He moans slowly, arching his back and trying to press harder into Peter. Peter keeps his grip firm on Juno’s thighs, driving into him and relishing each whine that Juno makes.

Juno braces his feet and lifts his hips. “I need more.”

“Hang on, sweetheart,” Peter croons. “Be patient.”

Juno shifts his shoulders, lifts his chest so he can look at Peter. “I don’t want to be patient, I want you to stop teasing me.”

Peter smiles, and snaps his hips forward.

One of Juno’s elbows goes out from under him and he falls back against the pillows again.

“That good?” Peter asks, and thrusts as deep as he can.

“More of that,” Juno begs.

Peter adjusts his position, and flicks the vibrator in his strap on. Heat coils in his belly. He starts up again, speeding up quickly as the vibrations bump against his dick and make him a little frantic.

Juno fists his hands in the sheets and throws his head back. Peter keeps going, deep and sure, until Juno is incoherent, swearing and begging for more. He lets go and reaches for his cock, but Peter snatches his wrist and pins it to the bed.

“I need—”

“Not yet,” Peter insists. “You don’t need your hand, just—just my cock.”

“I’m so close—”

“So let me go a little more,” Peter urges. He doesn’t stop moving his hips, and Juno doesn’t fight him, just closes his eyes and gasps for breath, his pitch raising.

Peter knows when Juno is truly close, because his breath catches and his hips raise higher, seconds before he finishes. Peter presses deep inside him, forcing the vibrations against his dick until he nearly cries out with the overstimulation, and then he comes so hard he sees spots. He grabs for any support, digging his fingers into Juno’s thighs, as aftershocks leave him shaking. For a minute, there is nothing waves of sensation, and his head swims.

Juno’s voice grounds him. He is cursing softly, his hands on Peter’s hips. “Please,” he groans. “Fuck, please, it’s too much.”

Peter fumbles at the switch, turning the vibrator off as his hands tremble. He can’t remember what he needs to do next.

Juno lays under him, legs spread and body limp, and when Peter pulls out he clenches his jaw and winces. After a moment, Peter reaches out to touch him, and Juno doesn’t flinch away. He blinks slowly, looking at Peter, and they sit together for a moment. Peter watches the rise and fall of Juno’s chest, and times his breathing to it until they are both a little more settled.

“How are you feeling?” Peter asks.

“Floating,” Juno says, and smiles. “Come here.”

It takes Peter a couple tries, but he finally gets the buckles on his harness opened, and he throws the strap to the ground. He should get up and clean them both, but he doesn’t dare go into the hallway to the bathroom without getting fully dressed first, and that is too much effort.

“Babe,” Juno whines, the word drawn out, and reaches for him.

Peter leans forward, and Juno lifts a warning hand. Peter freezes, but Juno just pulls his glasses off, folds them, and places them on the bedside table. Then, he tugs Peter down to his chest.

Peter drapes an arm across him. He tilts his head up to kiss Juno’s jaw. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks. “I should have—”

Juno cuts him off with a kiss. “That was spectacular.” He runs a hand over Peter’s sensitive skin, and Peter shivers.

“Cold?” Juno asks.

“A little.” Peter pushes up and reaches for the blankets, which have nearly fallen off the bed. He tugs them up to cover both of them.

When he lays back down, Juno wraps an arm around his shoulders. Peter closes his eyes, and for a moment he, too, is floating. He turns his head to press his face closer to Juno’s skin.

“Thank you,” Juno says softly.

“For what?”

“Mm, you know. Fucking me into oblivion.” Juno sounds half asleep already, and Peter sinks deeper into the blankets.

It isn’t right description, exactly, but Peter is too tired to argue. As he drifts off to sleep, he thinks that he is beginning to understand what people mean, when they talk about making love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is finished. The character arcs are complete. The cheesy final line has been crafted. 
> 
> HOWEVER. In chapter 6, I placed Checkov's dildo in Juno's drawer of fun, and then never let it get off. So there will be an epilogue. Which toy would you like to see pulled out and used? It doesn't have to be one I listed, because Peter didn't dig through everything. I'm taking suggestions here or on discord, and I'll use whichever one strikes my fancy. 
> 
> Thank you, ALL OF YOU, for reading and commenting. It has been so deeply encouraging, and I have never written so much smut so quickly before. I wrote this while also participating in, and winning, nano last month, because I wanted to get chapters out for you. To everyone who screamed about Mag or cried about Peter, this is for you.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this as I go and I don't know what my update schedule will be, but the more speculation in the comments, the faster I will write.


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